Heiresses Have No Fairytale Endings
by Bloody Priestess
Summary: With the disclosure of her arranged marriage, fashion designer Tomoyo's fairytale dream to fall in love shatters... But meeting the mysterious Eriol Hiiragizawa in her self imposed exile in Singapore, she finds herself picking up the shattered pieces...
1. Confessions Of An Heiress

**...**

* * *

**A Card Captor Sakura Fan Fiction**

"**Heiresses Have No Fairytale Endings"**

**By Bloody Priestess**

* * *

**...**

Summary: With the disclosure of her arranged marriage, promising young fashion designer Tomoyo's fairytale dream to fall in love shatters… And meeting the mysterious Eriol Hiiragizawa in her self-imposed exile to Singapore, she finds herself picking up the shattered pieces…

**...**

* * *

Disclaimer: The author does not own Card Captor Sakura, its characters or the setting of this fan fiction. Any dissimilarity to the CCS show/manga, inevitable mistakes are the authors own.

WARNING(s):

1) Author can get over-dramatic (for the worst or not; only her muses know…). lol

2) Very **AU**-ish. Example, ONLY the character's personalities and (family) relations will be used in this fic, therefore the whole_—"...were classmates in Tomoeda Elementary School"_ has to be overlooked.

3) Well, if there should be any mention of magic it will only be the _magic _that is LOVE. Any thing other than that, will not be taken into account (e.g., reincarnations, split personalities... etc.). :)

Author's Notes: Hello there! Although the title's a tad bit glum and pessimistic, I intend this story to be quite the opposite... Yey, I'm so glad you could come and join me traverse in what I like to imagine as a story of disappointments and daring the possibility of being disappointed again. But that comes MUCH later in the story.

Hm, I'd like to believe that the fanfic's rating is self-explanatory. You've been **warned**. I look forward to your constructive criticisms, reviews and story/plot suggestions; flamers will justly be ignored. So, flamers, save your breath… you're going to need it. (Enter peasants with torches and pitchforks ready to fight back... just in case...)

XD

**...**

* * *

**Chapter One**: Confessions Of An Heiress

_We dream, but there will come a time when we must wake up and face reality._

* * *

**...**_  
_

The _Daidouji Toy Co_. heiress looked very inconspicuous sitting in her commercial flight's waiting lodge. At a glance, she looked just like any other passenger waiting for her flight to be announcing boarding. The heiress looked nonchalant and chic. But, a closer inspection would show that her eyes were flashing, her mouth was set in a firm, tense line. She sat far apart from the other would-be fliers, engrossed in stringing her disordered thoughts and emotions into some semblance of order.

An observer would see that her long raven black tresses were caught up in a fashionably messy chignon. Her eyes almost an impossible violet hue as they peered through her arched eyelashes unto her laptop's screen. And her long slender fingers graceful as they tapped to and fro on the laptop's keyboard sitting on her lap… Her long, slender legs composedly crossed at her slim ankles.

In spite of the handsome visage naturally displayed, there was this certain degree of melancholy loomed that over her, which was unusual on someone so young, so beautiful... so affluent.

"_What do I know of love?_

_Love, I strongly believe, happens to princesses in fairytales. And that is _WHY_ they marry, because they fall in love._

_What do _**I **really_ know of love other than that?_

_And the answer is brutal as the question is blunt—Absolutely, _nothing_! Being only twenty one, fresh out of an exclusive Parisian all-women's college in a fashion designing course what am I supposed to know?_

_Nothing _yet_... Because I was supposed to learn that_ now _that I'm finally 'out' in the world._

_ Most of my life has been lived according to what has been expected of me. They've been according to Mother's rules and expectations, societal rules and expectations, other people rules and expectations. People would say I am a good, dutiful daughter. Not this time. This is where I draw the line._

_OH! But what's _this_? I am robbed of my chance to learn for myself..._

_Because, instead what I have is just _this.

_And… w__hat do I have?_ Nothing _but what I 'learned' from other peoples experiences and testimonies about the subject._

_And WHY? Why, oh, why are you so dire on asking such trifling questions? Why are you so insistent in quizzing me about things that I really never thought about because I ASSUMED that no one asks questions about that..."_

She missed a key or two— her spelling flawed — the mishap made her stop and sober up a little. Trying to breathe naturally, she continued...

"_Could it be I'm simply raving, for the fact that I am _only _twenty one and practically demanded to _betray_ everything that I have come to live by, the values and ideals I painstakingly cultivated_ all _my life!_

_HA! Tell me someone who would NOT respond the_ same _manner that I have!_

_Didn't Mother teach me to dream and hope? To have wishes for myself and challenged me to get it for myself? What the…? I did just that! I nurtured my own dreams—my own hopes… and now WHAT? She wants me to forget it all?_

_I'm a princess—sort of. As silly (and egoistical) as it may sound, that _is_ the truth of the matter._

_In our time, the equation goes something like— modern heiress_ equals _fairytale princess. At the very least, in the same way the two are privileged?_

_Think about it. All my life, I've been reared a 'princess'. Wasn't that one is called if she has been presented with all and the best opportunities and privileges in life? And I don't mean JUST the money._

_Heaven knows... My values and ideals were founded on that conception… Mother spoiled me but, as she proudly boasts, she never spoiled me_ rotten _like most of the heirs and we can think of._

_My mother, Sonomi is the only family I have and I love her ever so fiercely. _

_Reflecting on that detail… That is probably the motivation why she waited only until_ yesterday _to tell me that I can_ NEVER _have what I wanted the most—what I promised myself—_

The _fairytale ending:_ to marry for love_. _

_Before I go on and ramble once again…_ _All right, reality check._

_I am betrothed to a young man I've _never met _face to face._

_Of course, I am familiar of his family's company. Who doesn't? Almost all of the quality European books and other literary and/or journalistic compilations were printed in the_ Reed Publishing _and promoted by the_ Reed Advertising.

_But, will knowing about his family's company the _only_ grounds for sustaining a happy marriage?_

_NO! Obviously. After all, what the Reed Heir and I have is_ NOT _a love match. The affair is strictly business. _

_Well... After that long monologue in reply to that question of mine that she unleashed upon my ears. The practical-side of me (that must have come from the business-mindedness of my family) cannot help but agree that Mother is right. _Clow Reed_ and I are a suitable match. _

_But that doesn't mean I have to_ **do** _what is 'expected' of me. Or that I_ am _going to marry the man._

_Mom must have read my mutinous expression for she went on and declared that I am fortunate more than ever. _Now_ that my betrothed's family business—the _Reed Advertising and Publishing Co._ is doing extremely well in Europe. My future is set, she said._

_I know she is right… but_ my heart _is_ not_ convinced, nor does it want to be persuaded._

_I had plans. I want to make plans of my own. I want a life that is of my own choices._

_And as if I was not already feeling bad of this 'unfortunate' hurdle of my life's plan, Mother enlightened me that it was my dear, deceased father who struck the match with the Reed family, long before either of us (Reed and I) were born. She trusts my father decisions utmost certainty; she said I_ _should_ too _but…_

_And I told her, "I am_ just _your daughter. Not_ you_." _

_Mother looked at me forlornly but was extremely gracious enough to let me speak and continue, "You may settle to see that old arrangement is kept. '_We are only worth if we keep our promises' _or so an old family saying goes. And having the Daidouji blood run through my veins entails I must honor father's word by marrying Clow but… mustn't I put first the honor I have for myself?"_

Myself. _The last word ringed in my ears (now, as I _write_ this…) and it causes a dubious sting to my eyes._

_I hate to be so selfish... _

_Gracious, I really _am_ being selfish. Suddenly, I'm afraid that mother may have been wrong with her stand in the whole 'spoiled rotten' matter'—my God, if you can hear me... I don't want to be like the rest! I've always been an individual and I intend to keep it that way!_

_I held my tongue, speaking will only make matters worst. I could tell the reality of seeing me pack my clothes pained Mother. And all the while, I keep on telling myself that I wasn't running away from what troubles me—this was always the norm with me, she knew this—_

"Practice the PAUSE. When in doubt, pause. When angry, pause. When tired, pause. When stressed, pause. When you pause, breathe deeply and view things from a different perspective."

_I just want to be left alone to think things through. I cannot do that in the Daidouji Mansion, _not_ when she's constantly trying to "help" me make up my mind—I don't want my decision to be affected my others, that's why I need to get away... I must!_

_My decision will affect my future! The "future" I well may exchange the rest of my life's happiness!_

_MARRIAGE?_ She wrote heatedly. Her typing fingers rising with a somewhat angry, unconscious flourish at double punctuation marks.

_All right, all right... I realize that _this _business arrangement never held the "love" as one of its priorities... Heavens, it was never part of the equation at all! It is I who naively equated love into this whole situation... but that just it. This is my life—this is the rest of my life. Don't you see? That is where all this dilemma originate from! I _want _to marry for love... And given the _reality _of my situation, I see that I cannot have that _dream _to come true._

_I guess... What truly pained her was the fact that I _will_ sever all my connections with her during this self-imposed exile of mine. Yes, I'll live like an unsociable nomad for a while. And my only _social _link would be …_this_._

_God, please help her understand that I really need this. I needed some time and some place all to myself—I need to find where I stand especially now that my ideals along with my dreams have been uprooted with the revelation of my fate in marriage. _

_"To marry_ then _fall in love!"_ NOT _the other way around!_

_That is _not_ the way things should be. I'm sorry but I cannot help it if I'm so wildly romantic! I want the whole enchilada of courtship—moonlit walks, pretty bouquets of flowers, sinfully sweet candies that would rot my teeth and actually meeting the groom-to-be! But th—_

"Attention, please." Her fingers froze in mid-encoding as a voice ringed through the lodge's PA system. "All passengers to flight CS-822 bound for Singapore's Changi International Airport, please proceed to Gate-3 for boarding. Attention, please. All passengers to flight CS-822 bound for…"

"Everything's going to be all right." She said to herself, trying to get the reassurance her beloved green-eyed cousin was not able to give her when she hurriedly left the mansion.

Her blue-violet eyes flickered over to the other passengers pacing to the lodge's exit and decided to promptly finish her entry. "All right, it's now or never."

She continued, _"What _do_ I know of love are those in fairytale stories—Princesses and their happily ever afters…?_

_I guess, heiresses and princesses aren't as similar as what I firstly supposed. Do you know why, my dears? For this simple fact…_

_Heiresses have no fairytale endings."_

She guided the laptops cursor to the SAVE BLOG ENTRY icon tapped the pad twice and then did the same to the LOG OUT icon. After properly turning off her laptop, she replaced into its custom-made _Gucci_ leather casing, she fluidly rose from her corner seat with an unparalleled, unmindful regal grace despite her _Dolce and Gabana_ stiletto-heeled leather boots.

She subtly readjusted her rain-cloud-gray _Hermés_ scarf around her neck after throwing a stylish _Burberry_ navy blue trench coat over a _Karl Lagerfeld_ rain-cloud-gray knee-high pencil skirt and sleeveless onyx-black top with a classy lace-ruffle shirt-front which designed and sewed herself.

The young heiress found herself feeling a tad bit unsettled whilst picking up her belongings and followed the stream of passengers out the lodge, as if she was not alone.

Tomoyo Daidouji paused, as if she sensed some_thing. _She turned and eyed the wake of her but saw nothing out of the ordinary…

_Yet_. The fates added.

**...**

* * *

End of **Chapter One**

* * *

**...**

Author's Notes: Reviews are my fan fic's life blood... "FEED ME!" lol \m/

Seriously, I would really like to hear from you guys. Drop off a review or two or ten, if you please. Heaven knows I need 'em… (Tell me! _What did you like? What didn't you like? On what points to I have to improve on? What do I need to retain for future chapters? __**:D**__ )_

And my tireless "Thank you's" until the next chapter! _Ciao_ for now!

**...**

* * *

**...**


	2. A Guy Is A Guy

**...**

* * *

**A Card Captor Sakura Fan Fiction**

"**Heiresses Have No Fairytale Endings"**

**By Bloody Priestess**

* * *

Summary: With the disclosure of her arranged marriage, promising young fashion designer Tomoyo's fairytale dream to fall in love shatters… And meeting the mysterious Eriol Hiragizawa in her self-imposed exile to Singapore, she finds herself picking up the shattered pieces…

* * *

**Chapter Two**: A Guy is A Guy

_"I walk down the street like a good girl should,_

_He followed me down the street like I knew he would,_

_because a guy is a guy, wherever he may be,_

_So listen and I'll tell you what this fella did to me..."_

* * *

...

The rain poured down right after the _heir_'s private plane taxied on Singapore City's Changi International Airport's runway.

But the affluent never did have to worry of such trivial things…such as holding up an umbrella, opening doors and such. For they knew they will be attended to. An umbrella was immediately opened and hoisted over the Reed Advertising and Publishing Co.'s head until he reached into the awaiting limousine… The young businessman found the limo's phone ringing off the hook, business documents piled on every surface of vacant seat…

_Bloody hell. _"Some vacation this is turning out to be…" Seeing what laid in store for him, Clow muttered wryly and got the limo.

He heard that. _What vacation_? He thought as he closed the door for the heir. _You're here in business, man_. _Get your head in the game._

Minutes later into the ride, he could still hear the Clow's phone going on and off through the passengers partition. He needn't be a psychic to tell it were business calls…

He sighed...glad that he wasn't in the backseat with the young heir and his problems.

Seated beside the driver, he drummed his fingers in-sync to the limousines windshield wipers. As if sitting before the pianoforte, his fingers ran idly from corner to corner upon the ivory keys. He created a lethargic rhythm that reflected his ill-focused thoughts and the unnoticed sights of the modern skyscrapers in the downtown area where the sleek black Rolls and Royce eased through smoothly and curved around a corner…

The driver's voice broke the train of his (if there was _truly _any) . "Will you look at that?"

"Hm?"

The driver grinned, slowing down the limousine a tad bit and tossing his head to a figure outside, braving the pouring rain.

The figure's jacket's hood was whipped off the head by the wind—revealing the figure to be of a woman. He narrowed his dark sapphire blue eyes as the limo sedately passed the young Japanese lady jogging. A masculine eyebrow lifted for a fraction.

"Was that…?" He twisted his head to get a second glance.

The lady found shelter under a bus waiting shed. His mind raked through every picture he ever saw of the Daidouji Toy Co. Heiress. There weren't much, he noted, but…

He looked harder. There can be no mistake, it was indeed Tomoyo Daidouji. "Looks _too much_ like her for comforts sake, won't you agree, sir?"

They heard Clow curse under his breath. "I heard she ran away from home… but her mother did phrase it delicately, of course. The girl just packed up her bags and left a note saying, she needed time alone to gather her thoughts."

His sapphire blue eyes darken at the sight of the scowl on the publishing empire heir's face on the rear mirror. It came without saying (it was public knowledge, after all) that young heir's arranged marriage that knitted his dark brows in vexation. It was reasonable that apprehension came with the thought of meeting a future wife than actually persevering with the arrangement for marriage. _Impressions where everything._ For it was the cornerstone to which Reputation was build upon.

And reputation to the Reeds was vital.

Clow knew nothing of the girl… just as the Daidouji girl knew nothing of him.

If he recalled correctly what Mrs. Sonomi Daidouji cited—his fiancée Tomoyo does not even have a face to associate the with name Clow Reed. In other words, she had no idea what he looked like. Well, Clow was not relying on that to hold up for very long. Information regarding the Reed Family and their company was only a search engine away.

Oh yes, he knew of the situation at hand by heart… In as much as possible he did not want to be involved in Clow Reed's affairs any more than he can help it. Personally, having to worry about such trivial matters that did not really concern and include him was getting quite tiresome. However, he was committed to the man… He was, what would be easily be categorized as Clow Reed's man-of-affairs. Whatever legwork that need to be done, he was the just the man to do it. And so, he will just have to deal with _this _as well.

Business arrangements, he thought, "Now… Clow can handle business arrangements with no qualms and apprehensions whatsoever. But this type of arrangement with the Daidouji Toy Co. was nothing he had encountered in the past… this time around the sakes where were high—it was not like Reed didn't relish in heart-pounding, nose-bleeding risk undertakings—it was just that he was risking the outcome of his whole future to this simple yes/no question: Will you uphold your father's word to her father and marry the young Tomoyo Daidouji?"

He could just hear people chuckle good-naturedly, and add, "Say, Reed? Have you ever heard of this thing called 'divorce'?"

Well, what can he say? Europe may have lopsided most of his values and jaded his general view of humanity —but his view in the sacredness of _his _marriage remained intact. People can do what the bleeding hell they want with _their_ married life.

The publishing heir regarded him with an unnerving interest. "My dear, ol' friend," the heir began, his eyes weighing heavily on him. "I have an idea… and I'm you're not going to like it, as expected, but I assure you it going to work like a charm…"

He was not assured. He did not like were this was all headed… Nevertheless, it doesn't matter what outrageous scheme that leaps into Clow Reed's long, dark maned head of his nothing will ever change his regard fellow… they were in this or that together.

Europe had changed him, he thought eying the _boss_. Superficially, that's for sure…but deep inside, he was still who he was when he left Japan… The same young (_well,_ he amended, _a _much_ younger_) man, where the world seemed to be against him. The English tabloids had pictured him differently—but he knew better… Back when the man had nothing… back when…

Clow voice broke through his little reverie. "I want you to spy on the Daidouji girl for me. Find out what my betrothed is like."

He stared absorbedly on the swishing wipers, stalling. But the fixed eyes, settled on him, patiently waiting for an answer… He had to laugh at that. Clow knew he had no choice but was too much of a gentleman to have him admit that.

After sigh of resignation, his dark sapphire blue eyes matched the audacious gleam on the heir's eye. "Game on."

Eriol Hiiragizawa waited for the limo to circle the block again and stopped around the far end of it where they were sure _she_ wouldn't see him alight. They had to play this right. Grabbing his suitcase, he leaped from the limo and landed on the rain-drenched street gutter. And as the water seeped into his shoes, he cursed again before re-facing the beating of heavily pouring rain. Though getting thoroughly soaked from head to foot, he withheld the strong impulse to curse and rant and instead armed himself with an easy, disarming smile… And with a veneer set, he sprinted toward the covered waiting shed where the young lady was.

The limousine sped past him… Even thought being relatively obscured in the shadows and the heavy tint on the windows, he knew the heir was smirking deviously.

Eriol paused, watching the car drive off. He wondered what he gotten himself into this time.

...

"Hi."

"Hello…" was her absentminded reply. She extended her arm up to the rain, catching raindrops into her cupped hands. Water dripped from her long fingered hands and a tickled to down her already wet arms, Tomoyo did not seem to have a care.

"Lovely weather we're having." His British accent was unmistakable, and she did seem to be surprised. Eriol observed. He surmised that this Singapore after all.

Eriol reasoned correctly. Her three days in the country had taught her that it was very common to meet such an accented individual. Historically, Singapore being a former English port and colony—some ties were not so easy to sever. And so, that reasoning jarred no warning bells in her head.

The smile that graced her face was the dark clouds' extreme _opposite_. "Lovely." Tomoyo repeated, none too conversationally.

_Boy, oh boy… _Eriol thought to himself, dropping his suitcase on the partly dry pavement, adjusting his light brown jacket about him against the chillingly cold wind and spay of the rain. _Clow's going to like this one_. He thought with a hint of sarcasm._ Eloquent as a brick wall_. "I was merely jesting, you know."

"I know…" Her eyes, absorbed with rain droplets accumulating in her hands, "and besides, I was _not_." She continued, absolutely oblivious (or conniving) at the fact that she was sharing a rather private feature about herself to a total stranger. "I love the rain, you see…"

The simplicity in her words reminded him of honesty. And honesty invoked... Primal (and _male_) instincts kicked in, the "prey" was fragile and vulnerable… The disclosure appealed to both his sympathetic and predatory nature. Pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, his eyes wandered down the length of her.

_Ah, the predator in him_. And oh how they feasted in the way her wet clothes clung unto her like a second skin, accentuating her visually stimulating body—well roundness of her bosom and behind, the natural arch of her lower back, the trim limbs and torso, and long, shapely legs… His eyes wandered, appraised, appreciated. "I guess… I do _too_."

As she turned to him, she tried her best to conceal the surprise to learn that he _too_ was Japanese, especially with that dark mane, pale skin, and unmistakable slanted almond-shaped eyes. What Tomoyo purposely did not conceal was her aversion in the way he was looking at her. It was a coolly critical appraisal, marked with a blatant dose of masculine pleasure on that atypically strong Asian facial bone structured countenance. "No you do not, mister. You just like the view."

Reluctantly, Eriol dimmed the heated turn of his already _un_gentlemanly musings. And focused on the wet tendrils stuck to her pretty, porcelain smooth face."I'm not _that _kind of guy."

"But, a _guy_ nonetheless… with a guy's thoughts and all."

"Yes," he unknowingly emphasized. Distracted by the wonders on this young woman, "…_all_."

She did not take her eyes off the similarly dark and damp-haired young man she judged to be in his early to mid-twenties. "A guy is a guy…" Tomoyo chided him with her eyes but he persisted on being so obnoxious and …male!

"A tad bit prejudiced, don't you think?" Eriol said, irking the girl with the casualness of his reply. "Whoever made you believe so ought to be hanged until dead!"

"In that case," she began sweetly, but her eyes told the contrary, "May I offer a rope for _your_ neck?"

He fell silent. Then, after a fleeting and rather, _knowing_ grin surfaced, _The way he approached her was something _Clow_ would have done_. Wrong move. _Let's try this in another way_. He boyishly continued… "_Oh_. My bad."

Tomoyo's eyes noted the sincerity in his abashed features. She lowered her guard. To begin with, she didn't like the smug assurance he had for himself especially as he initiated the conversation—she seen much of that in high society balls, benefits, parties and soirées in most if not all they young men she met in those events. And frankly, she was riled and tired of it. But _this_ guy… he's embarrassed, she saw how cute and human he seemed—a fresh relief. _How adorable was he? _

Tomoyo made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a soft laugh. Her white teeth flashed at him with amazing sweetness. "Oh, come now, mist—_err_."

He smiled. "Hiiragizawa. Eriol Hiiragizawa, miss…?"

Now, Tomoyo was alarmed. She immediately regretted prompting the turn into this dialogue. She was usually so gifted with the maneuvering the course of the conversation but her dire aspiration to impress this guy cast her aptitude of such into oblivion. She lowered her lashes, "Would you mind I withhold my name? I don't mean to be rude but… it's just that…"

Eriol finished for her, "You cannot be known since you're running from the law."

"Yes. I'm running from…" Her voice trailed off as she continued… _my mother wishes but its inevitabl_—Tomoyo's big, violet eyes widen as his words sank in! "I mean _NO_! I'm NOT running from the law!"

"Easy, miss…" Eriol laughed. "I was just kidding… I didn't mean to ruffle your feathers… But you're so uptight, I couldn't help it."

Relieved, she playfully waved off her embarrassment, "I'm sorry about that… my nerves are at its breaking point…" But Tomoyo inwardly flinched, _He didn't ask, Tomoyo! Why are you explaining yourself to him? Who is he anyway_? Her eyes stole up to his cool (and rather handsome) profile… and decided that it was her isolation from the male species on a daily-basis in the academy and the critical need of every human being to be agreeable.

The young man regarded her with odd interest… but when she looked again. This brooding guise was replaced with a serene… and quite honestly, a mystifying smile as he fished for something in his coat pockets. "Do you know where…" _It was gone_. He cursed under his breath and searched in his other pocket…

Tomoyo detected his slowly mounting agitation. "Is something the matter, sir?"

Eriol laughed sheepishly, "No 'sirs', okay?" When she nodded her drenched head, he explained himself. "Well, uh, I know… this will sound laughably ridiculous but… I'm rather lost my uh, err… DAMN, oh pardon my French. Well… and before you suggest a cab… well, uh, I have finance limits…very _severe_ limits." The _bloody_ wallet that contained map of Singapore isn't here!

"Oh." Was all Tomoyo could manage before her lips began to quiver.

DAMMIT! Eriol wanted to howl in frustration but he recalled: This girl was a respectable, decorous, wealthy heiress (very much _like Clow_, he thought)… Obviously, cursing was out of the question with her. And so, he bit back his tongue. He wanted to kick himself for allowing this to happen—curse Clow and his bright ideas— "I hate to say this but… oh, there is no, face-saving way to say this but, uh—"

Tomoyo patted her soaked jogging pants' pockets thoughtfully. "Well, I'm afraid that I don't have that much on m—"

A notion hit him like a bolt of lighting that streaked the sky seconds earlier! He bloody sounded like he was asking for—money_**!**_

"OF ALL THE ROTTEN, BLOOMING TI—!" And whoosh! And there goes biting back his cursing tongue before a 'respectable, decorous, wealthy heiress'. _Ah, hell_. He thought.

"Please you get the wrong idea, miss—I was trying to solicit—_NO_! Not money. Dammit! Why did I even think of using that blasted word! I wanted to…!"

Tomoyo's face broke into a comical grin after holding a very awfully forced poker face.

Blood rose to Eriol's face, "Just blast this damn pride to hell! I wanted to ask for directions… There! I said it."

She gave in to the insisting impulse and thoughtlessly threw her head back and gave in to a hearty laugh. "What's with men and directions?"

He just looked at her, pleased at her unbridled and extremely genuine laughter that ringed in his ears. It wasn't the sort that he heard from the young ladies he met in the circle of Clow's acquaintances… She was different. He liked her — and judging from his own appraisal of the heir's nature— so would Clow.

Eriol Hiiragizawa smiled. "Why do you women grant the idea like it's such a condemnable masculine trait?"

Her smile was brighter… and sincere, he noticed. "You simply _assume_ we do… but truly, we don't. However, an improvement may be done…"

_God, she's so naïve… trying to change the impossible_. He smiled again… _and so innocent_. He would have laughed at his er, _interesting_ thoughts but was unceremoniously cut short as a speeding black automobile speed, spurting a heavy sheet of rainwater from the gutter to them.

Eriol took most of the splatter of water, finishing the pouring rain's original job of soaking him through and through! "WHAT THE H—?" Then Eriol recognized the black Rolls and Royce he alighted _from_ not a few minutes ago. His eyes narrowed into vicious slits. _Damn you, bastard_…

Tomoyo on the other hand burst into laughter, Eriol forgot brooding the endless, merciless ways to slaughter the limo's occupant and enjoyed the view of her pale cheeks gain a lovely shade of pink in her merry fit of mirth. "Uh, miss?" he began sobering up. "About those directions?"

She courteously inclined her raven black head. "Yes?"

"You see, I need to go… to the uh," Let's see… What's the closest hotel here? "…Carrion-Whitmore Park Hotel." _A smooth lie_… _Ah_, _dammit_! _The things he lowered himself to_… lying… _God_! But this was _just_ the beginning…

"Why, sir! You're in luck! Although I am not overly familiar with the locale, I happen to know where the Carrion-Whitmore is." She said pivoting to the far end of the waiting shed shelter and she glancing up to the leaden sky. Tomoyo continued. "I'm heading there myself. I'll gladly lead you once this rain stops."

This is too easy. _Damn her naïveté_!_ By god_,_ he was here to spy oh her_. _This girl was so trusting_… The content of his thoughts did not alter his calm and smiling expression; a masculine trait he was extremely proud of possessing. "Well, if you're concerned about getting me wet…" Eriol smiled mysteriously at that very male inside joke. Damn, that was apt language for this… _ehem_. He indicated his drenched clothes, "That blasted car made sure of that."

"True, true… Let us make a run for it, then? The Carrion-Whitmore is just around that corner and up this little hill."

His earlier lighthearted inference made her big, beautiful blue-violet eyes twinkle with mischief as she said that. He liked that. _She's a child in a young woman's body_. He reminded himself as the prior thought stirred a potent male reaction. _Heaven help me_. "Yes, a dash about in the rain is just what I need." Eriol said solemnly.

Adorable, Tomoyo thought, he talks like one of Jane Austen's characters—very English. For a moment, she was stilled. A notion bothered her, but with a dismissing shake of her head, she disregarded the notion. May I remind, Tomoyo that this is Singapore, a former English colony! _Of course, they're going to have 'accents'_.

She turned to face him with a smile that made his body…ugh. But a good _ugh_.

"Ready?" She asked over her shoulder.

Woman, you have no idea… He did not voice the words aloud, he simply nodded. And she was off! Eriol bolted after her.

The cold rainwater rendered the cooling effects of every other cold shower… Thank God for that, he murmured trying to keep his eyes from her long tampering legs as they stretched out in her sprint and the firm, fine behind he trailed… She guided around the corner and up a "hill" which actually was a slope up the grand entrance of the posh and elegant white marble pillars of the Carrion-Whitmore Park Hotel.

They've made it.

"No, it's all right. I can manage, thank you though." Eriol politely waved off the bell boy that came forward and attempted to take his luggage for him before turning to they young lady, "Miss, you're an angel."

"Really, Mr. Hiiragizawa… you need not use flattery. A 'thank you' is more than enough."

Quietly, Eriol approached her and relished the look of her when he took both her hands with his and brought it up to his face.

And then, only then, did she realize that she only came up to his jaw… peculiar for a Japanese man. They weren't supposed to be this tall. Tomoyo blinked, and blinked again, chiding herself for such unfair remark—it was just that, she was considered tall for a Japanese woman with pure Japanese ancestry. And those men who towered _her_ were mostly Caucasian and if they were Japanese they were of varied and mixed ancestry.

He smiled a mysterious smile as he looked over her. "You know, miss… its quite unfair that you know my name and I don't know yours. But rest assured. I will not compel you to telling me."

Tomoyo crammed her knees together to keep them from giving out on her… Mayhap it was the cold rain finally getting to her bones or for some reason she care not appraise… She quickly dismissed that it was merely the most primitive of awareness leaped within her at his nearness. "Really, Mr. Hiiragizawa…" she said in a voice that sounded puny and lack the resolve she wished to infuse. "You need not to turn on the charm. A 'thank you', I repeat, is more than enough."

Eriol bowed his dark head unto her gathered hands. Tomoyo looked on immobilized and honestly, bewildered whilst he kissed the back of it—one then the other. His breath was warm, his sapphire blue eyes gleaming as they looked up to her through those beautifully heavy lids. "Thank you." He simply said.

As gently as he took her hands, he released them and stepped back. Tomoyo swallowed, her chin rose and thankfully there was no betraying blush staining her cheeks when she said so formally that is was close to the point of aloofness. "You're welcome, Mr. Hiiragizawa."

And he changed. The suave Casanova had gone. He was that adorable young man by the bus waiting shed as he scratched the back of his dripping dark head, briskly. "Blast it. I can't you anything but 'miss'…" And the inevitable happened, "Aachoo!"

A hand stole up to her face and cupped her mouth.

Eriol initially disoriented from sneezing, managed to lift his gaze to her. And the blasted-"no"-name woman was red with restrained laughter. _Great_, he sneered, mainly at himself, _made to be the fool_… _again_! _God_, _she and Clow have that in common_. He thought it over. _Ah, correction, a GREAT things in common!_ He muttered exasperatedly. _Blood hell._

"I'm sorry," she said in-between giggles, "but "_Miss Aachoo_"? Heavens, I wonder what my first name would be."

"Angel." He said solemnly and she tilted her head...curiously? So he continued, "You're an angel, though you laughed at me and therefore, no longer fit to be called so… You're angel because you lead me through the chilly rain to this place. I'll just have to call you Angel."

"'_Lead'_, huh? '_Angel'_, you say? That name does make one think of a wagging tail and a flea collar."

And Eriol just laughed… laughed, and laughed. _Dear God_, he liked her… quite possibly more than he's allowed to.

_Oh bugger_!

* * *

End of **Chapter Two**

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own the song, "A Guy Is A Guy." Merely thought of it as a fitting addition and somewhat an inspiration to this chapter. :)

Author's Notes: Alright, kiddos. Before you make any violent reactions and hurling god-knows-what at me with the slightly naughty thoughts (c/o... a _guy_) and innuendo, may I remind you of this fic's **NEW** rating? (from **T** to **M**). Better now? Thank yoÜ for not hurling anything at me... _yet_.

I hope that this change will not keep you from reviewing... I've just made it so, just to be safe.

Well, the hotel mentioned is fictional, however the airport, (and in _later_ chapters) the streets, park and so on are not.

And oh, before I truly forget my manners, I'd like to thank _you_ for sticking out with me. And of course, thank you for the reviews and please, do not hesitate to post another one and another… please keep me updated with your views, questions, clarifications and such anything within reason, of course, (so... the _ending_ is out of the question… hehe) about this fic.

Remember, I may NOT answer some of your questions on the grounds that it might give away the major 'spice' of this story. Hehe... But ask anyway, who knows that question of yours may be an **exception**. You'll know, it is (an exception, I mean) when I address it or answer it in the next chapter. So, keep your eyes sharp, m'kay? Ü

I apologize for the late update… but that's just me—I'm just rather bummed that this summer here and I have no one to brainstorm with. (...talk to me, okay? I love getting e-mails from Y.O.U.!) Well, you see... everything here (at home) is soooooo uneventful. It's boring me to tears. Kick me, if you must, especially as I say this… I want school to begin again!

Ahaha! Ü

* * *

...


	3. Splendid Isolation

**...**

* * *

**A Card Captor Sakura Fan Fiction**

"**Heiresses Have No Fairytale Endings"**

**By Bloody Priestess**

* * *

Summary: With the disclosure of her arranged marriage, fashion designer Tomoyo's fairytale dream to fall in love shatters… And meeting the mysterious Eriol Hiragizawa in her self-imposed exile to Singapore, she finds herself picking up the shattered pieces…

Disclaimer: _I _don't speak French, all the phrases used in this chapter (and _later _chapter) is care of **Yahoo! Babel**.

AN: The French phrase/sentences(s) will be _italized _and the translation will follow soon after, will be in **bold**. Example:Bonjour! **Hello!** Any corrections in this area will be most appreciated! Thank you!

Here is—

**...**

* * *

**Chapter Three**: Splendid Isolation

Isolation. That's what she thought she needed.

Isolation. That's what she thought she had.

Isolation. That's what she thought she was getting...

...apparently _not_.

* * *

**...**

"_Though the hotel where I'm staying reminded me of a fellow student in Paris' _Académie de Beaux-arts et Dessiner_ (_transl. School of Fine Arts and Design_), whose country house was no less a château (!) in the south of France, it is a beauty in its own right_."

She wrote… thoughtlessly as she lay on her stomach on the double sized bed of her "deluxe" hotel room.

The _Paris' Académie de Beaux-arts et Dessiner _(commonly referred as _Académie _by her students) is a private, independent, accredited, nonsectarian, fashion and fine arts university in Paris, France. Founded in 1936, the university is the oldest Fine Arts and Design institution of higher education in France. The Académie campus consists of nine buildings, centrally located in the seventh arrondissement of Paris, on the Left Bank near the Eiffel Tower, Les Invalides, and the Seine.

The Académie's language of instruction is English, although students must prove a level of proficiency in French prior to graduation The Académie has approximately one thousand students, representing over a hundred nationalities, with an average student-to-faculty ratio of eighteen to one. The Académie's faculty members represent over fifteen nationalities, with eighty percent holding doctoral degrees. The Académie sponsors more than two hundred lectures and seminars every year, exposing students to a wide range of topics all relating to Fine Arts and Design.

"_The entire exterior of the structure was of whitewashed stonewalls with the vivid green of an elegantly creeping vine and its entrance set with lofty white marble pillars, and contrasting to the gray and onyx black mosaic driveway—lined with a colorful array of potted familiar and exotic blooms_…"

Tomoyo described… on and on… shoving the "BORING!" and unflattering whines to the back of her mind… and described on…

"_Behind it, there was a tennis court, a swimming pool divided by a half-submerged pavilion that cradled a wet bar (_and when I say WET bar, I really mean W-E-T. OKAY, you prevs, that's enough. What I mean is, the bar is partly submerged in the middle of the pool_) and true to its name—Flowers—red, white, pink, yellow and every color in between and more! Trees and shrubs—tall, short, disheveled, trimmed and everything in between and more! Wherever one turns, there was a beautiful landscaped "park" to behold_."

"_The hotel's interior—a fusion of the elegance of late Regency/early Victorian mansion and the simple exquisiteness of a garden. The lobby's ceiling soared over 2-stories, connecting the upper and lower half and had a fresco of an old East India Map and."_

She could practically hear the bodies of those reading this blog entry dying of boredom… Once again, she shrugged the thought aside… and wrote...

"_The lobby level was in crème marble floor—accented with elaborate carpet in burgundy and gold where the settees done in rich burgundy and gold reminiscing 19th century styled brocade was, and coffee tables and side tables were of carved mahogany and topped with crème marble. And the walls were adorned with a vertical 18x10 ft. painting of a scene that illustrates the old port that was Singapore, a horizontal 10x18 ft. painting of a Chinese junk at sea with its red 'sails' against orange, pink, purple and dark blue hues of a late sunset…"_

Tomoyo sighed, after rereading what she wrote and let out a little sardonic laugh.

Sitting a tad bit straighter, her shoulders set in a no-nonsense angle as her fingers whizzed along the keyboards pads...

_Yes, my dear reader. I am rambling. Shying away from what I _truly_ want to write and share with you. _Tucking a stray lock hair behind her left ear with one hand, the other hand typed…_ As you can see from the VERY detailed description of my surroundings, I sure sound like a darn (pardon the cuss) hotel travel guide._

_I guess I'm pretty boooooooooooored—of course, as a habit I get up extra early to jog around the block of my hotel, I have toured the entire hotel, inside and out—_TRICE_ (with an exception of the parking lot—I'm not _THAT _desperate! _inserts a smiley face_) since I came here a_ week and a half ago_._

_Perhaps I should take my frequent BLOG visitor and dear, dear cousin's comment and "_get out_"!_

_Sakura told me—_End this hiding out_! Send notice of my whereabouts to her (plus the latest dish about my life as a fugitive—ha! And the status of my dress designs for my collection) and my mom (and tell her that I'm still WHOLE and alive). _

_Oh dear me! Despite the fact that I've indulge my whims and opted for this chance to coolly assess my situation and situation I am about to face~ I cannot help but feel terribly guilty!_

_I haven't spared a moments thought about designing! You see, upon arriving from my connecting flights from Paris to India (just to refuel) to Japan, mom practically blurted out my "_fiancéed_" status._

_Well, if you call into mind a previous entry of mine you could tell that I snapped out some denial-ish thoughts regarding my "shying away". Now, that I think about it perhaps the whole 'snapping business' was a result of jetlag, irritability due-to-the-lack-of-sleep and the infuriation of traveling non-stop..._

Tomoyo paused, and considered it for a moment. Yes, she would have to tell her mom. Sighing, she decided to e-mail her mom, not to disclose her whereabouts but to tell her of her safe arrival and secure residence in a respectable hotel… And then, e-mail Sakura… but what to tell her EXACTLY…?

The computer screen's glare caught her attention, the _I_-beam blinked in its sedentary state on the last word of her entry… After I finish this, she promised.

"_And to think, fashion is all have that _truly _mine_." She wrote, after a little bittersweet laugh. "_Yes, I believe I can safely guess what you're thinking. '_What about the money, _Miss _Heiress?_' True, I do have money—but that's my FAMILY'S money. Of my own? I have nothing, absolutely nothing but …fashion. The fashion I will create_..._ the something that comes from me and me alone._"

Fashion, that won't create _itself_.

The Daidouji heiress realized that she had unconsciously shoved her dilemmas in the farthest corner of her mind. And by deferring to answer questions and ponder different course of action and their possible outcomes—she wasted precious time! Here she was sitting around her room, and occasionally in the hotel's buffet table for breakfast or lunch or dinner—acting like nothing was wrong and that the world would stop spinning; people cease what they were doing just because she hadn't done a thing worthwhile.

"That's a selfish and childish inference, Tomoyo." She said aloud.

Sakura Kinomoto commented on her BLOG—that a dear schoolmate of hers, the Singaporean (Half Indian, half English) Anamosa Milton was set to finally come out this season with her fall collection. To become a top Fashion designer was also Ana's dream …and here was Miss Milton taking the bull by the horns unlike someone she knew.

_Herself_.

Tomoyo considered the thought—she assumed the worst case scenario, where her husband-to-be is a chauvinistic caveman—who would not allow her to do anything on her own… Thus thoroughly ending her dreams. If she did not move now, then there was no other time to do so.

That was the kick Tomoyo needed. With renewed spirits, she flipped her laptop open and added, "_This can't be the end of my dreams. There has to be another way. I must find that _other way."

SAVE BLOG ENTRY? _YES_.

And Tomoyo began writing an e-mail for her mom and another one to Sakura. She minimized her e-mail account window and was once again confronted by what her lovely cousin wrote. "I won't find that way by sitting around here." Tomoyo said, eying the deluxe-type room she occupied with a little frown.

Sakura wrote: "_Sometimes, we dream of reaching what we really desire but life isn't like that… We don't get everything we want but in the end, we_ can _realize that we deserve better than we dream_."

Can you let go of a dream, my dear Té, for the hope and risk of an uncertain… and most possibly a _better_ alternative ending?

Tomoyo chose to heed the latter. She rolled out of the messy-heap-of-a-bed and headed for her second shower of the day.

* * *

...

* * *

"Excuse me, my dear lady…" A Caucasian man said his pale-green eyes decidedly honest and earnest. "Is this heaven? Because… I'm seeing an angel before me."

_De ja vu_? No. This was the fourth pick-up line used on her tonight. The heiress sighed disapprovingly.

The three men, seated in a table not far from hers snickered at their friend. He came with those trio who each had a turn in reciting her a "pick up" piece.

_"Je devrais vous aveugler avec cette boisson." _Tomoyo said in perfect French, verbalizing her desire to fling the alcohol contents of her margarita to his eyes and perversely enjoy watching him recoil in pain! But, alas! She was _too_ well-bred for that ... _he _was not worthy for her to stoop that low. Besides, her conscience would never allow her to forgive herself. And so, she gritted her teeth and flashed him a tight-lipped, convincingly pleasant smile, saying most regally, "You need to get you're eyes checked, sir. I'm afraid you're seeing things."

The young man shook his head. Chuckling insolently and muttering something like "I'll do that, Ice _Princess._" As he took his leave. He took the fourth seat amidst the snickering trio.

Tomoyo gave no indication to something that was meant for her to hear on the sly. Instead, she busied herself by discretely rearranging her skirt's folds over her knees as she crossed her legs at the ankles. Only now did she fully realize how important it is for a lady to have an escort, chaperon or at least a companion at times and places such as _this_.

When her self-chastisement passed, she turned to the "next" one to blame. '_Men!_ If they find you all dressed-up and alone they swarm like a horde of ravenous wolves… They cannot seem to put it through their egotistical heads that it does NOT follow that whenever a girl is dressed-up and sits alone—she's saying "Hey boys! Lookee here… Come and get me."'

Tomoyo critically called into mind her selected ensemble... her high-waisted white Grecian-inspired strapless dress with an artfully yet simply draped bodice and a delicate flowy columnar pleated skirt that ended well below her knee. It had been modestly obscured by a beautiful long-sleeved black lace shirt with no-front-buttons but securely closed with an over sized black leather belt that matched her black leather knee-length, stiletto-heeled boots...

_Certainly NOT a "pick me up" attire_! She thought fiercely!

Perhaps it was her make-up? _Really_! She scoffed at the thought. Her make-up simple enough— a very light application of blush on her cheeks after base of a little concealer here and there, a touch of black and a dash of gray eye shadow and _very_ minimal eyeliner was applied to her upper lids to define the almond shape of her eyes and a pale, almost nude pinkish-apricot lipstick on her lips.

_Madamoiselle Le Fonde_, back in _Académie _would most certainly say that her 'look' tonight was very schoolgirl-_ish_ to the standards of Parisienne Fashion!

Tomoyo could not understand it… What's wrong with these men? She could see herself as a commonplace office girl—having a little drink before heading home…

_Maybe it's the stiletto heels of my shoes... hmmm... _With her eyes already downcast, she saw a pair of impeccably shined masculine shoes standing before hers.

For the fifth time that evening, she was greeted. "Good Evening..." a familiar voice began, rudely dislodging her from her musings. Tomoyo had a resolute mind to simply ignore the speaker... and then, he finished by adding, "_Miss Angel_." And with that, her eyes shot up to the speaker's face. "Now, now…" he said in a rather amused tone… "There's no need to look at me so contemptibly. But I dare say, if you have a dagger as cutting as the gaze you're giving me now… I'll be dead now."

"Mr. Hiiragizawa…" She chided demurely, trying to dim the surprised intensity she felt her eyes showed. "What is with this talk of me being a murderess? I thought we have already established that I am _not_ running from the law."

"Eriol." He corrected with a smile.

"_Eriol_." She amended with an even bright_er_ smile.

_And, my god, what a beautiful smile—it bared his straight, white teeth (which must have cost a fortune, courtesy of braces) and hinted a small clef on his left cheek. It was unreservedly disarming_. Whatever he was saying about her being a murderess of sort—her feminine sensibilities wanted to forgive and forget… And the navy blue suit he wore fit his tall and lean frame to perfection—_he looked so_—she stopped herself from finishing her sentence. There was something to this _new_ feeling that startled her... Too odd, too soon...

Casting a fleeting look at the piano sitting idly on the end of the lounge, she tried to recollect herself. She cleared her throat to break the tension, she swore, _only __she_ was sensing. "Would you care to have a seat?" She gestured an empty seat before her.

The four men, obviously eavesdropping (among other things) wondered amongst themselves what the rather tall Japanese guy with glasses said that made her Ice-Highness offer him a seat. But it was what the "lucky" man said that made their jaws drop.

"No thank you, dear angel… I have to work." He pointedly tossed a head to the piano in the far end of the lounge.

Tomoyo opened her mouth but no words came out. She could not put a finger on the reason _why_ she was rendered to such inability… She watched his commanding form him stride away, the insight presented itself to her.

Her fingers found the stem of her glass and brought it to her lips. The liquid felt cool in her mouth but as she swallowed it slid like a fiery trail down to her stomach. Soothed by the drink as it settled in the pit of her stomach, she reclined comfortably in her seat, her violet eyes resolute on Eriol.

He had a different side to him… She saw that… One moment he's an adorable, smiling schoolboy who wants to please a pretty lady… and in the next, he's an insufferable, haughty man who knows his effect on a smitten lady!

Her dark, shapely eyebrow rose a good half-inch at the sight of a knowing smile playing the corners of Eriol's mouth. _Men_! Tomoyo waved at the waiter who appeared by her side almost immediately, "A strawberry margarita, please." She said.

"Very good, ma'am." The waiter replied and he was gone.

He took a seat before the piano, where most musicians took a minute or two to arrange the notes—Eriol did not. He immediately ran his fingers though keys and produced the familiar, haunting tune of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata.

The slow, melancholy tune sounded like a phantom reminding her of the things she wanted to put out of her mind… forever.

She shifted her gaze upward slightly and saw that he was completely absorbed in this serene isolation he placed himself in… And with every pearl white key struck, its corresponding tune only seems to further his isolation.

Tomoyo watched and listened… she found herself wondering … and envying, if should even find such a place for herself.

A place of pleasant and permanent isolation… where nothing bad could ever find her and shatter everything she treasured—her dreams. Tomoyo's movements deadened, admonishing herself silently. _Here you go again… entertaining such selfishness_.

A sickeningly delightful chill trickled though her body, her eyes flitted to the empty margarita glass… _Well, I never! Serving an empty glass!_ With her brows in a rather fetching knit, she summoned the waiter. "Another margarita, if you please waiter._ Et cette fois,_ **And this time**, fill it with _something_- say, the margarita?"

When the drink arrived, she took a hearty sip, made a face as the drink trickled down her insides, duly replacing the empty void within her with something warm and to some degree… filling.

Heartened with a sudden loss of inhibition, she returned to her earlier thought. _What is this?_ Tomoyo brooded, eyes hardening. _I mean, how will this—drink and all this 'hiding out' help? Is this even helping_ my _cause or merely buying my time?_

With that she brought her drink to her mouth and let it water down the bitterness her throat. In her slightly alcohol-infused state, she did not notice the worried look aimed to her general direction from the piano player. Her fourth, fifth, margarita came and gone… Just like (**snap**) that, the last note of that Beethoven piece ended.

…_My god! I really am wasting everyone's time, aren't I?_ Tomoyo threw her head back and laughed bitterly.

There goes her sixth, her seventh margarita…_ "Je devrais être à ma maison._" **I could be at home**. Tomoyo sadly admitted to the nearest object to her_—_her _very recently _empty liquor glass._ "Non ivre et très_ bloody alone_! Trouvez une alternative à ce problème idiot avec ma mère. AVEC ma mère?"_** Clear-headed and not so bloody alone… ranking my mind for a solution to this stupid dilemma with mom. WITH mom?** "HA!" she snorted in a fetchingly adorable French manner... and tad bit too loudly, thus, earning for herself the disapproving interest of everyone lounging about.

That is, everyone _but_ those four men in the corner table who looked VERY pleased at her condition. Tomoyo turned her empty glass in her hand, giggling at something _only_ she found amusing. The four men made their move… evil intent burning behind their eyes.

Eriol saw that. He moved quickly—his training as man-of-affairs was not in vain. He crossed the lodge's entirety to her table, swiftly and silently. And like an avenging angel, a stern sentinel, a forbidding foe... He stood by Tomoyo as she slumped to her side on the table. His arms folded over his chest, eyes watchful… and daring.

They must have seen it too.

Tomoyo managed to lift her head to the sight… she wobbled slightly as the liquor slowly did its magic. _He stood beside her, daring the evil men to play out their evil intentions. He was her Knight in Shining Armor._

_Wait a minute! Wasn't I supposed to be giving up on fairytales?_

The white-gold charm bracelet glimmered as she reached out to the vision. Was he for real? Was he really there… for her?

A dark head hit the table top as Tomoyo passed out.

**...**

* * *

End of **Chapter Three**

* * *

**...**

Author's Notes:

_**(1)**_ I really apologize to those who are scandalized for the content of this chapter—drinking/liquor "abuse"…please don't burn me! As you can see, I am taking the appropriate actions… By changing the rating and all that.

_**(2) **_A reply to a review question—Yes, Sakura and Syaoran will be making an appearance… but that would be very _later _on the story.

_**(3) **_Thank you for reading! .. yey! \m/

Until the next chapter, you guys… Ü

* * *

...


	4. Wishin' And Hopin'

**...  
**

* * *

**A Card Captor Sakura Fan Fiction**

"**Heiresses Have No Fairytale Endings"**

**By Bloody Priestess**

* * *

Summary: With the disclosure of her arranged marriage, fashion designer Tomoyo's fairytale dream to fall in love shatters… And meeting the mysterious Eriol Hiiragizawa in her self-imposed exile to Singapore, she finds herself picking up the shattered pieces…

* * *

Author's Note: _**(1)**_ Hello there, my dear readers... Has it really been a year plus since I last updated? Ohhh, anyway… Welcome back~! There's a bit of smut here. _Yes_! Finally, the M-rating shall be now justified. _**(2)**_ Here's a little guide for you: **read the **_**time/date**_** carefully.**

Uhmm... Finally! Here is chapter 4! Ü

* * *

**Chapter Four**: Wishin' and Hopin'

"_That _won't get you into his heart..."

* * *

**1:13 a.m., Tuesday**

She peeled off the constricting black lace shirt she wore over her dress and threw garment on the empty seat like a gauntlet. She tossed bespectacled man one last contemptuous glance before mounting the elevated platform which served as the lounge's stage. She was going to show him! She is still in control of her person, by Jove! The heiress walked purposely across the platform where the band was, and positioned herself on center stage.

Eriol, knowing that he could save her an embarrassing scene by playing along, hasten to the piano. Just as Tomoyo counted herself into a beat by rhythmically snapping her fingers...

An unsuspecting on-looker would think that this lovely lady was none other than the lounge's singer. With a careful, covert eye he kept on Reed's intended all though out the last hour, Eriol know for a fact that Tomoyo Daidouji was now soundly intoxicated._ Damn, _Eriol thought, _she can be quite a baggage! In this state, she doesn't even bother to sheathe her claws_... But for some reason, this did not displease him as much as he thought it would.

Tomoyo lifted her chin and propped her hand on her waist. She was not going to back down, despite this "infirmity". She was here to prove to them that she was still here and able. _Well, I _am _taking charge, no more, no more. _And here to weather out whatever life, in general, has dealt her!

The stage lights bathed her lovely, pale skin in an almost ethereal glow.

She looked up from the floor to the audience in the old style of the early Hollywood classic movies' with a beguiling expression.

_**"Wishin', and hopin',**_**"**

The band, perplexed for a moment glanced at one another, resignedly they started to join in.

"_**And thinkin', and prayin',"**_

Some people's drinks stopped mid-way to their mouths as they watched the young lady singer and her delightful rendition a familiar song. She had unique spin to the song with her appealingly light, melodic voice.

_**"Planning and dreamin' each night of his chaaarms."**_

She leaned vintage microphone and stand to a precarious angle as she classily tipped her body did the same as she held the last note...

_**"That won't get you into his arms..."**_

Alerted, he was half an inch off his seat from the piano, when Tomoyo sharply righted herself and mischievously winked at him.

_**"So if you're looking for love you can share,"**_

Relaxing a bit, Eriol sat back down. Partly amused, partly goaded, he pounded his fingers into the next string of ivory keys and she continued to sing...

"_**All you gotta to is hold him,"**_

In a timeless, graceful movement Tomoyo wrapped her arms around her and whirled captivatingly.

_**"And kiss him..."**_

In time with the line, she blew a kiss to the audience... Not too coy, but the action did definitely create a rippling effect, most notably on the _male_ audience.

_**"And love him,  
And show him that you care."**_

The girl's a really something, Eriol thought. After that little spectacle with the four men (he could not help but watch and admire how she 'took care' of herself), then that whole business of drinking herself to a tipsy state (he wasn't too proud of this) and passing out (he sweat dropped)—she sat right back up and insisted to get on the stage to sing, _Wishin' and Hopin'_.

Tomoyo sashayed around the stage, appealingly dragging the mic stand with her in a manner that reminded him of those old Hollywood films and "the innocence" of burlesque.

_**"Show him that you care, just for him.  
Do the things that he likes to do."**_

Tomoyo was now singing pointedly to a pretty, young brunette dressed in pale olive, frilly baby-doll dress with fashionable black tights, who just came in sometime in the middle of her 'performance'. The Miss took the table in the front row with her date.

Tomoyo sang to her: _**"Wear your hair just for him, 'cause,"**_

The heiress tossed her long, raven hair with flourish and waved an index finger at the brunette, like she would admonishingly advice a dear friend while the other hand graced down the length of the mic's stem in rather unconsciously sensual motion. Eriol's eyes smothered.

_**"You won't get him, thinkin' and a prayin',  
Wishin' and hopin'."**_

The young woman in the pale olive dress smiled, raising her drink to Tomoyo. The Miss nodded in a half-serious, half-joke-indulging manner to the heiress. And the singer beamed.

_**''Cause wishin', and hopin', and thinkin', and prayin',"**_

Tomoyo made a series of charming dramatic faces for each of the previous line—a beseeching countenance, a hopeful air, a thoughtful face, a dreamy look...

"_**Planning and dreamin'**_**," **At the end of that prolonged note, **"**_**His kisses will staaart."**_ Tomoyo wiped off that dreamy look on her face and distinctly glanced at Eriol— _**"That won't get you into his heart!"**_

Eriol, confident with his mastery of the ebony and ivory keys of his piano, was ogling her almost missed a note. He gawkily tried to cover it up.

Tomoyo saw that and smiled smugly at him.

_**"So if you're thinking how great true love is  
All you gotta to is hold him, and kiss him, and squeeze him, and love him."**_

_**"Yeah, just do it!  
And after you do, you will be his."**_

She turned to her audience. Thus, unable to see her piano player trying to get his face back to its natural color. Unfortunately for Eriol, the audience did~ And they smiled knowingly at the adorable display of 'boyishness' by the serious-looking, bespectacled young man on the piano.

_**"You gotta show him that you care just for him.  
Do the things that he likes to do.  
Wear your hair just for him, 'cause,"**_

It was clear that the audience were captivated with her performance. On that stage, she had an unaffected allure which was sweet and sassy. The audience found her positively brilliant.

For the lines that followed, Tomoyo lowered her voice to a near whisper. And, she had the people visibly leaning forward, eager to hear what she had to say.

_**"You won't get him, thinkin' and a prayin',  
Wishin' and a hopin'."**_

Tomoyo was a real _artiste_. Eriol thought. On stage, she had presence... it was NOT an immediate and commanding presence. But something in the way she rolled her dark eyes at a clever line and the sweeping movement of her trim arms when she emphasized a point that caught and held one's attention and actually made people _care _what she was saying.

_**"'Cause wishin', and hopin', and thinkin', and prayin',"**_

That, Eriol thought, will make her quite valuable to Reed Publishing and Advertising Co. She could be the "voice" and face of the company. With her splendid PR-relations, the possibilities were limitless.

_**"Planning and dreamin' his kisses will start.**_

_**That won't get you into his heart!"**_

"Reed would like that." Broad shoulders tensed involuntarily, "Reed would like that _very much_."

_**"So if you're thinking how great true love is!**_

_**All you gotta to is hold him, and kiss him, and squeeze him, and love him."**_

Thinking like the heir, the young man's thoughts were of the pro's and con's of the match... Something, he knew, the heir would very much like to hear of.

_**"Yeah, just do it!  
And after you do, you will be his."**_

Sapphire blue eyes settled on the Daidouji heiress, his attraction to her was palpable. With her most recent lines echoing in his head, he whispered most dangerously, "A challenge, angel?"

_**"You will be his.**_

_**You will be his ~ !"**_

A corner of this mouth curled slightly. _All right _then. _Bet on it, love... for it will prove to be extremely profitable for both_.

* * *

_**8:54**_** a.m., Tuesday**

Sunlight steamed through the small cease of the heavy, drawn curtain and slanted its concentrated rays down unto her face—forcibly clutching her away from sweet slumber... In retaliation to the offending light that did nothing but its job of announcing that it was time to awaken, Tomoyo sleepily pulled the deliciously body-warm, heavy comforters over her head upon rolling to her side. Then, burying her face into a soft, fluffy pillow, she tried to relax and find her place back in Sleeps arms...

But something was not quite right...

Slowly, she was becoming aware that her current pillow had a certain spicy, masculine scent to it and NOT the vanilla scent of her shampoo that Tomoyo vividly remembered clinged to it just the night before when she last laid upon it. Sleepy blue-violet eyes snapped opened to the sight of the bedside table... but instead of seeing beautifully arranged white lilies, blue-violet Japanese Irises and exotic yellow orchids in crystal class vase on it—there lay, instead a rather scholarly leather-bound book.

She was wide awake now. "Heavens!" Tomoyo shot up from the bed... which she shouldn't have! For her still-marred head protested by pounding hard against its confines most excruciatingly. _This what you get when you don't eat AND drink heavily._

Tomoyo brought her legs up to her chest and rested her head on her drawn knees to steady the nauseating shifting line of vision. _What in the world. That is… if this is still earth!_

And as if she was not already horrified upon realizing that she had spent the night in someone else's hotel room—the bathrobe that she (somehow) change into slid off her shoulders and settled below her bosom and elbows revealing her in a strapless lacy crème _Victoria's Secret_ number.

Where were her clothes? "_Heavens_!" She repeated, yanking the robe over her exposed shoulders. Clearly, she knew very little profanities.

Her head pounded painfully against her skull. But she needed to think and assess her situation, or die trying! With her mouth dry, her eyes darted about the room. It was a pleasant affair. A deluxe single room, with a queen-sized bed and the other amenities of a hotel room—a handsome wicker recliner (slept in, _A good sign_, she decided) with matching table set near the drawn curtain that if opened would lead to a sliding glass door bring one to the small balcony.

Seeing the _Carrion-Whitmore Park Hotel_ emblem on the complementary stationery pad on the desk, it was safe to assume she has not been kidnapped and carried off to some desolate place... She was still within the hotel premises but the question is...

_Whose room is _thi—_?_

The doorbell tinged, distracting her. Despite the new shot of pain to her already-throbbing head, Tomoyo pulled the robe over her shoulders and headed for the door. After checking through the peephole, she opened the door for the hotel employee with a trolley filled with —obviously, breakfast underneath that overturned silver covering.

She followed the man in. Her cheeks burning as if they were on fire, realizing what _this_ (she unconsciously gripped her robe's neckline tightly) must look like... Setting the trolley by the coffee table, Tomoyo noticed again that the two settees were facing each other in such a manner that it was made into a makeshift-bed the help, lifted the lid with a flourish.

"Here we are, miss— a—"

Tomoyo paled as the prepared food's aroma filled the room. Her stomach did a complete 360 and a rather putrid taste traveled upward from her churning stomach and up her throat. She cupped a hand over her mouth and bolted for a closed door she assumed to be the bathroom—but before she could reach the knob, the door swung backward—and in the opposite side stood a fresh-from-the-shower Eriol in a white towel around his waist.

"Angel?"

She had no time to admire the magnificent male aesthetics that stood in display at the bathroom's threshold and _that _towel. Tomoyo ungainly brushed past him before practically hurling herself to the marble floor before the toilet. She flipped her wrist at him— in a gesture to pardon her as she bowed her head and retched.

Eriol wiped the disparaging look from the observing hotel employee with a curt nod which the later took as a dismissal. Stooping beside Tomoyo, he drew her long tresses away from her face and gently rubbed her back as tremors of nausea hit her again and again.

With her face adverted, she thanked him and then asked, "Can you please leave spare me some time to compose myself and gather what's left of my dignity?"

Eriol nodded, struggling not to unashamedly gawk at the lovely pale skin of her legs tucked underneath her. "Come have breakfast when you're though, alright love?" He said and closed the door behind him soundly as he tried to assure himself that the _physical distance_ would be enough.

_It had to! Blast it... it's not even 9 o'clock in the morning and you're already thinking about..._ Eriol threw his hands in the air, somewhat frustrated before her got up and practically jogged out the door.

After cleaning up after herself, Tomoyo propped herself on the counter and rinsed her mouth and splashed some water onto her face. She searched and found an extra hotel complementary toothbrush and toothpaste and began brushing furiously.

"You brought this upon yourself, you know?" She rolled her eyes at the young woman in the mirror. "There's nothing more you can about what occurr_ed_… You can no longer take back what you have done to make Eriol and anyone for that matter think of you so lowly. After all, whatever your actions were last night was, without a doubt, shamefully abominable! What you _CAN_ do, is control what _will_ occur from this moment on. You behaved abominably, Tomoyo. And that is the reason you _deserve _to feel and bear this shame uncomplainingly."

She brushed her teeth with a vengeance, before spitting unto the black-marbled sink. The heiress straightened, and then starkly met her own eyes on her reflection, "What you need to do now is redeem yourself. From here on out, you will conduct yourself appropriately—as you have been _taught_. You may not like it... but, shame is shame. You must be now... Cool, polite, detached."

Her spine straightened, her chin angled determinedly—she ripped the door from its frame and purposefully strode right into Eriol bare back. He was already in his worn jeans, Tomoyo tried not to be so apparent in closing her mouth after it had involuntarily dropped at the sight of his torso of rippling muscle and sinew.

"_Whoa_, girl!"

Tomoyo too stunned at his remark that it did not even register in her conscious, stimulus-overloaded brain to protest to his indecent exposure. "First, you likened me to a _dog_... now, a _horse_! What next? A LION? Goodness! I am a woman! Not some silly animal!"

Belatedly, she thought. _S__o much for… 'Cool, polite and detached'_.

Eriol recalled the quip: _I am a woman, hear me roar._ His smile deepened, and with it, the flare of something hungry in his eyes. "Well, with the way you're _roar_ing—you could have fooled me, angel-face."

"How dare you!" She began but when Eriol countered by menacingly stepped forward and she backed and backed in effort to escape him.

Bracing a hand on the wall beside her head, he caged her between his warm body and the cool wall. "Dare?" Eriol began strangely, his head bent down to her upturned face, "No, angel. Not… _yet_."

He was _too_ close. Eriol radiated sheer amount of male sensuality was making Tomoyo inwardly shiver with... could it be? Pleasure. And then, a memory — Muddled it may be, it was a memory nonetheless, of something similar to this burned to her mind and heated her cheeks.

* * *

_**1:22**_** a.m., Tuesday**

She shouldn't have done that.

That last drink Tomoyo fetched from the young brunette in the pale olive-green dress was the final straw; for after draining the said drink, her knees gave way.

Eriol was off his seat before he realized what he was doing. He gathered her plummeting body into his arms and steadied her to her feet. She 'stood' next to him with her head bowed as if in modesty at their applause.

To the audience, he smoothly said. "Thank you for your kind attention, ladies and gentlemen. Please enjoy the rest of the evening with Martin Kesse's Jazz and Blues band." The band leader— stepped forward and resumed his post on center stage.

_I'll explain later. _Eriol mouthed to Martin, the bandleader as he assisted Tomoyo to her feet.

Firmly, he said breathed into her ear. "I believe it is time for you to retire, miss."

"Retire?" Tomoyo pulled back from the security of his 'embrace'. "I'm only twenty-one! A _true _woman of the world, I most certainly am NOT!" She flailed her arms in exasperation. "And what is this? You _TOO?_ You want me to retire? Retire from what, Hiiragizawa? I barely _lived_ my life."

The indirect reference to her 'maiden' status sent the bolt of feral need and pain old lust through him. Eriol swallowed and kept his tone passive. And so he managed to say pacifying, "Miss Daidouji, I believe you have had enough... I'll take you back—"

"...oh no, you don't! You're not taking me anywhere! I won't let you push me to things I don't approve of! I won't let you not without a fight, buster! Besides, who do you think you are to me? Ahh. 'Tis silence, I hear. So... Do _not _tell me what to do!" She tenaciously protested.

They both knew that it was merely the liquor bring her to such an abrasive temper... if she was sober she knew she would diplomatically hold her tongue and act "as expected". But, she had to admit or else she'd be lying, _getting the chance to say what you really want to say is quite... liberating!_

"Very well then, I will not _tell_ you. I will make you _act_." Eriol hid an amused smile as he seized her arm and purposefully guided her out the lounge, into the vacant hallway and they kept on walking.

Tomoyo grumbled inebriatedly but mimed his pace. "Well, I _never_ been—"

"Oh," Eriol quipped, playfully sarcastic. "So, that explains why you behaved so inanely. You've _never_ been rein in!"

_He is absolutely right_. Tomoyo thought doggedly. Quite livid that he should point that out because it meant she had to face the facts... now. _Mother always gave me freedom to do as I wish. And I've always been so sensible. Most of the time, we compromised—met in the middle and the like. This is betrothal business is the only thing I had no chance to exercise my privilege as citizen of the world_. He was dead-on. "I have nothing more to _say_ to you, sir." The _truth_, generally damages the ego the _most_.

"Good." He replied good-humoredly, undeterred. "Now you have more opportunity to take _action_ instead of talking too much."

Tomoyo started to open your mouth to rebuke but immediately closed it, refusing to prove him right. She said nothing as she haughtily jutted her chin in the air. He continued to guide her along and finally to the where the elevator access was, barely managing to keep his amused face neutral.

"So… you're a singer, huh?" He began, after lighting the elevator's _Up-_button.

"Yes, I_ sing_—if that's what you mean to ask."

The elevators' polished silver-hued doors swung open. Eriol laughed derisively. "_Ask_? It was more of a statement than an inquiry." He gestured to the open doors. "After you, miss."

"Well," Tomoyo drew herself upright as she strode inside like a proud queen into the enclosed opera box. Resisting the childish urge to jab the Close button in his face, she stated instead. "Forgive me for poorly phrasing my reply. You see, _Mr_. Hiiragizawa, such ghastly responses results only from pitiable initial exchange."

"Stating a slightly modified _Law of Physics_, I see." Eriol noted, while the metal doors shut behind him.

Mischief and liquor made her eyes light up. Tomoyo recalled about all those male acquaintances she encountered in the past that were positively annoyed with an intellectual female. _That'll show him_! Then maybe he'd go away... and stop prompting questions about mother and, indirectly, to this marriage-business that I don't want to face right this moment! By heavens, she had a moment to feel so free and unbound by the persistent decisions to be made—she intended to keep it a while longer.

"_Newton's Law of Interaction: _an equal but opposite force exerted by a body when a force acts upon it! Simply put, _Every action results to an equal opposite reaction_!" She declared knowledgeably. It has been her experience, thus became a known fact that most men were put-off with intelligence in a woman.

"Why, Miss Daidouji…" Eriol's voice was deep and husky with meaning.

The wicked flash in his dark eyes finally penetrated into her liquor-sodden brain and an alarm went off in her head. Tomoyo tried to fight off the creeping uncomfortable turn of his boldness by aligning herself against the closed doors—she knew that once she'll reach her floor, she'll be the first one out.

"Is that a dare?" He brushed a lock hair off her upturned face. Tomoyo moistened her dry lips. Why does she have a strong feeling that he does not fall of the 'most men' category?

Tomoyo did not allow herself to react even as he propped his hands on a position above her head and leaned ominously down to her five-seven height from his own six-one feet. And her subtle retreat was blocked off with the elevators doors behind her back. "I like to see you try, Eriol."

Eriol's eyes smothered, he purposely ignored the sarcasm in her tone. "With pleasure."

The sharp taste of liquor in her lips was sharper than he expected, he was fairly surprised. Eriol decided that he liked it. His tongue lightly traced the upturned corner of the side of her mouth. Her lips soften and began to move with his, stimulating the the desire flaming between them. And for some absurd reason, Eriol thought himself to be intoxicated as she. Only that… _she_ was _his_ heady wine. He tilted his head and gently nibbled her lower lip, tasting her resistance slowly crumbling away. His conscience told him to stop this at once—not only was this girl helpless, she was also off-limits.

It was the latter thought that made him want her more. Although every inch of his starved body screamed for her, he told himself not to roughen his kissing… any… _more_. But his hardened body was telling a different story—he ground the lower half of his toned, eager body to hers, letting her feel him.

His achingly aggressive motion to sent her skin on fire. A flash of awareness lit and widen her eyes.

The suggestive contact made her half sigh, half moan into his right ear. And sound was utterly erotic, but what really broke his control was when she grabbed the lapels of his dark suit, roughly pulled him to her. A long, slim, milky white leg wrapped around his waist locking him in place to her arched body.

He yanked the spectacles off his face and tossed them to the opposite corner of the elevator. "Bloody hell." He groaned pleasurably, hands deftly slid to and fro at her the wonderful womanly curves of her sides, her spine and finally down to garb her lush bottom. He could tell that all this was possible because of the liquor in her system... it made her inhibited. Tomoyo Daidouji has always been a good, sensible, well-bred young woman.

He liked _this_ rather uninhibited woman too.

After following her for these past few days. And learning about her life, education, family and friends gave him an understanding that Miss Daidouji (she never even bothered to _personally _give him her name) was NOT 'that' type of girl who shacked up with mysterious men— Even if, _ehem_, he was extremely desirable.

Tomoyo's hands wandered. They experimentally traced the powerful lines of his shoulders before finally entwining themselves around his neck. When Eriol mouth left her lips to nudge the sensitive area where her neck and shoulders met with the tip of his aquiline nose, her long fingered hands unconsciously shoved themselves into his dark hair and began deliciously kneading the strands on his nape.

That was the last straw. A hand slid languorously down from her toned shoulders, past the soft mounds of her breasts, the curve of her trim waist, before he scooped the back of her other leg's knee. With both her legs around his flank and against his obvious , he backed her hard against the elevator's closed doors.

"_E-Eriol_."

He silenced her with his parted mouth. Finding her already parted for him set a surge of electricity to _all _his extremities. His fingers tightening on the flimsy material of her dress' hem, pulling slowly, deliberately and agonizingly slow up her thighs... His hot breath on her throat forced her to match his breathing, his steadily quickening pants.

He was engrossed in parrying with her soft tongue that he did not notice his shirt coming loose from its tuck-in his pants until she lightly touched her hands to his bare skin of his tampered back. Eriol burned.

Never in a million years, Eriol would have guessed that she would respond this way— _So sweet, so uninhibited, so_... Her lips parted beneath his and unknowingly admitted his tongue to the warm, liquor-flavored recess of her mouth. Heaven help him... She was so naively seductive. It _almost_ made him guilty of the charade he was playing on her for Reed. _'Almost' guilty. If he was to lose this opportunity... He could not think of a better compensation than..._ this. A _small _sample. And he would only take as good as she gives...

He kissed her, her lips parted; his tongue slipped between them for on sweet taste, then withdrew... then hungrily, urgently, plunged again and again. And then, it was out of control...

Suddenly, the wall that they have been leaning on for support gave away and the pair of them fall through. Eriol reacted instantly, he cupped the back of her head a split second before they landed half on the elevator's interior and to the carpet floor.

_Seventh Floor._ A cool voice announced. Eriol gently laid her head before popping to his elbows. The distance between their overheated bodies brought back some of Hiragizawa's ability to think _proper_ly. Sapphire blue eyes avoided her face in that passion glazed expression. And most of all, the manner she was unintentionally sprawled in that inviting spread beneath him.

_Interruptions! Interruptions! _Eriol thought wryly, very disappointed for his lack of control and how his mind immediately leaped to rationalizations to justify his actions while he was still warm and heady. _Why does this always happen to me? Gods, help this girl... for once I have a taste of something I like..._

Eriol could not help himself. He smiled like the devil himself.

* * *

_**9:11 a.m, Tuesday**_

Tomoyo eyes widen beautifully as the memory dawned on her. A thousand words of protest and indignation leaped to her lips but immediately checked the impulse. She knew that nothing happened between them... save for that scene in the elevator. The tell-tale signs were in the room (his make-shift bed, for instance). But that was all.

_...redeem yourself. From here on out, you will conduct yourself appropriately—as you have been taught. Cool, polite, detached._ She had told herself.

Tomoyo mulled the thought over. Losing her temper at the loss of her 'face', will not help redeem what has already been lost. A cool smile tugged the corners of her mouth as she lifted her eyes to his amused, mocking ones. "Thank you for rescuing me, Mr. Hiragizawa." She will not allow the huskiness quality of his chuckle distract her and continued, "I know I could not have made it through the night if you did not take me in."

"Tomo—"

She cut him off, afraid that she would lose her resolve if he would try to appease her in this state of 'distraught'. "I'd like also like to apologize for being such an inconvenience to you. I realize that it is not your job to take care of me. And for that, I am sorry."

"Believe me, miss. It was no trouble at all, so there really is no need to apologize. Matter of fact," His turned and poured a steaming cup of something from a tea pot brought along the breakfast trolley. "I consider it was my 'good deed of the day'." He handed the cup to her.

She took a sip of the steaming brew. The warm milk settled wonderfully in her empty stomach.

Reading her expression correctly, he selected a bland slice of wheat bread on a small dish and offered to her. Feeling heaps better after a nibble or two, she flashed him a genuine, grateful smile. "Oh, I see. How noble of you. In that case, I'll thank you again... for watching over me."

Eriol paced to a small closet, where he took out a freshly laundered and pressed outfit that Tomoyo recognized as the one she wore last night/dawn. Wordlessly, he handed it to her. She tried not to ponder the possible scenarios that warranted him to send her clothes to the laundromat, It was too humiliating to even contemplate. She suddenly felt doubtful that she could never live last night down and keep up this whole '_Cool, polite, detached'_ scheme she planned.

He seemed oblivious enough as he shoved his arms into a gray knitted turtleneck and pulled the garment over his head. She thought she heard him say, "It's my _job_. That's all."

Her smile did not falter... but she thought rather sadly. "_How impersonal"._

Little did she know, that prompted her set her heart _against _him.

* * *

End of **Chapter Four**

* * *

**...**

Author's Notes: Finally got that one out! Whef! My first really smutty-ish chapter... Please be nice... And, and... Almost six thousand plus words! Haha, this is the longest chapter in_ Heiress Have No Fairytale Endings _to date! Ü

_**(1)**_ Thank you for your limitless patience in waiting for this chapter to be posted!.

_**(2)**_ Did anyone get confused with the whole "time/date" thing to tell which scene went first, second, etc. ? I was experimenting on the concept, you see. I hope it was all right.

_**(3)**_ Feedbacks, please... Do drop me a line. Tell me what you think, where I went wrong, where I did not explain too well, et cetera (be specific, a'ght?)…

Until the next chapter, you guys… See (or _read_) yah! Ü

* * *

**...**


	5. Morning, Noon, and Night

...

* * *

**A Card Captor Sakura Fan Fiction**

"**Heiresses Have No Fairytale Endings"**

**By Bloody Priestess**

* * *

.Summary: With the disclosure of her arranged marriage, fashion designer Tomoyo's fairytale dream to fall in love shatters… And meeting the mysterious Eriol Hiiragizawa in her self-imposed exile to Singapore, she finds herself picking up the shattered pieces…

* * *

Author's Note: Guess, who's baaaaaaaaaaaaaack ~ ! Ü

_He will always be remembered_~ The chapter's title is homage to a work by the late, great Mr. Sidney Sheldon.

The chapter is dedicated to the fellows I call _Right-Round-Right-Round_ and _Corleone_. Without their stimulating conversation, listening ear and genuine reactions, I would not have enough material and inspiration for this chapter. Cheers, gents!

And to_... you_! For simply hanging around… Here it is! Ü

* * *

...

**Chapter Five**: Morning. Noon. And Night

Here be chapter five in three parts~ The _Morning-After Affair_, the _Noon Break_, and the _Night Gown_.

...

* * *

**Morning.**

After making himself decent, Eriol restores some order to the room, while Tomoyo dress back to her freshly laundered clothes.

Emerging from the bathroom, composed and battle-ready, she extended a hand to him.

"I must thank once more for your hospitality."

He looks so attractive in that turtleneck— I like the way it snugly hug his bod… _Stop! _Tomoyo took a deep breath and determinedly focus her attention on the room instead.

The settees were back to their proper positions around a small circular table, she observed. From the table's position beside the open glass, sliding-doors mid-morning sunlight spill into the room.

Avoiding Eriol's unfathomable smile, Tomoyo turns to the food from the trolley arranged capably on a small glass table, a standard piece of furniture in the _Carrion-Whitmore_. Instead of shaking her hand, Eriol drew her toward a seat he held out for her. "Thank me by joining me for breakfast, miss."

She could not help but admire how smoothly he is prolonging this Morning-After Affair. Following his lead, Tomoyo slips into a vacant seat with a composed air. Her head still felt poor, but she _must_ get through this Morning-After. _Take charge_, she told herself.

"My, my, my…" Eriol teased, taking the adjacent seat. "You're making it easy for me to slip back into my job."

"Oh? And what sort of job is that, exactly?" With her table napkin in place, Tomoyo picks up her cup and sip daintily.

"Being at your constant service."

She studies him from the rim of her cup, before firmly setting it down. _Such words would have done the Sphinx credit_. "What do you mean by that?"

Eriol refills her cup with warm milk. "Blimey… Aren't we brimming with questions this morning?" He pours coffee into his cup from a different pot. This one filled with aromatic, freshly brewed coffee.

"You did not answer my question." She deliberately stuck a fork into a piece of ham, before violently running a knife through it.

A corner of his mouth curls faintly, "That is correct."

"How succinct. Tell me, do you have something to hide, Eriol?"

Eriol leans back, cross his extended legs at the ankles and drape his arms negligently on the arm rest. "Don't _we_ all," He emphasizes meaningfully as he adds. "...Miss_ Err_?"

She ignores the bait to disclose something prematurely. _I guess all those times when I sat in company meetings taught me a thing or two_. _Let's see if I can do it on my own._ Smiling with equal mystique, Tomoyo assumes an equally laissez-faire pose by leaning far back in her seat. "A secret for a secret, then?"

_What daring, Miss Daidouji. _Eriol ponders her offer.

"Is this hesitation I see?" She asks in a tone that suspiciously sounded amused.

"I'm afraid not, dear lady. I am simply taking the moment to weigh the pros and cons of the proposal."

"Perhaps so. Getting the bad end of the deal often prompts one to do so. There are, after all, more secrets to hide the more to lose."

"What an intriguing mind you have, Miss _Err_. Tell me, are you trying to verify if your experiences and your tendencies is also true for other people?"

Tomoyo smiles with aplomb. "You are not answering any of my questions, Eriol… And I am compelled to do the same with yours."

Soberly, he candidly notes. "Surely, you're compelled to tell me your name—after all, I gave you mine."

"And _you_ tell _me_ I have an intriguing mind." She stalls as well. "Surely, you understand that following me telling you my name, I have to explain why I withheld it in the first place. It's inevitable."

"Yes, I understand. But do _you_ understand that it is entirely _up to you_ to tell me 'Why'." Eriol adds crème to his streaming cup and stirs thoughtfully. "Like you said, you feel compelled to explain— But remember, 'a secret for a secret'. I will press for nothing more from you than what I have divulged. And any thing else beyond that I will gratefully accept any secret _you wish_ to divulge."

"And so… Shall I, similarly and gratefully, accept any secret you wish to divulge?"

"Is this not sufficient enough? This proposed, 'equal exchange'? Like I said, Miss Err … We _all_ have something to hide."

"You must be in the process of deciding whether or not it would be a good thing."

"Granted. You and I both." Tomoyo agrees. She toss her white table napkin on the table like a war gauntlet, not like a small white flag of surrender. "You do realize that by proceeding with this _equal exchange_. We are purposely armed, prepared and therefore, guarded."

Eriol had no trouble following her thinking. "Are you by any chance trying to say that we _may_ lie to each other?"

"That is a worst case scenario, but yes. That _may_ happen." Tomoyo caught and held his gaze. "Honesty is a fine, great matter to me, Eriol. I value it very much."

_So do I. Damn you, Reed for putting me in this situation._ "Ahh, its ironic then… You lied to me in our first meeting." He said frankly.

Tomoyo looks him squarely in the eye. "Did I _really_?"

Eriol immediately grasps her argument. "That is why you opted not to tell me your name. You said nothing on that score, and so, you did not _technically _lie."

For fleeting moment, her dark eyes were drawn to a bird in flight—_ What does that sign suppose to signify? My freedom flight into the skies? Or my opportunity for freedom flying away?_ Tomoyo felt the cup shake in her hands. _I cannot allow these negative thoughts to keep me down. Soren Keirkegaard said it best—_'Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.'

"My, how ungentlemanly of you to point out the _technicalities_, Eriol."_ Forward, T. Forward_. And so she continues. "Please, do not change on the count of me and _my_ ways."

Eriol tenses. _Is that permission to be myself?_

"Yes." And after a pause, she continues. "You gave me your name. So, I'll give you mine in return. Equal exchange_._" _Sounds just like a business proposal. And to think, it is also a business proposal that got me in this marriage mess. But this has to be done. I cannot go on and be ignorant of the rules. I have my self and my family to protect from being made a fool of._

"Do we have an accord?"

Eriol extends his hand over to hers. "Yes. An accord. Shake on it?"

Tomoyo grasps his hand and gave it a very professional shake. _Interesting choice of words. _And she wondered, _What am I really agreeing to?_

"The expression on your face tells me that you're already having second thoughts."

_Mérde_. "Truth be told, I am. For the record, such an understanding between us would suit me—and likewise for you—just fine. I am having second thoughts because I just realized that what I _truly_ desire is out of the question in this situation. Therefore I will compromise." _In the meantime,_ she thought, and suddenly wishing she could decipher that smile of his._ I will simply not fall in love. For to love without true, raw, honesty is... bound for failure._

"You have such severe ideas of things."

"Please don't make it seem like such a bad thing."

With his elbow resting on the seat's arm rest, he brought the tips of his fingers together. "You're a young woman coming into your own. That's definitely a _good_ thing."

Was it just her? Or did she hear a hint of _something more_ in the way he intone the word 'good'? There's that very enigmatic expression of his again.

"_You_ have a very intriguing mind, Eriol."

He acknowledge the plain truth with a simple nod of his dark head.

After a deep breath or two, Tomoyo extends her hand for a handshake. "… how do you do, Eriol Hiiragizawa. My name is Tomoyo Daidouji."

"How do you do, Miss Daidouji." Eriol, like the first time, brought her hand to his lips for a very Continental greeting.

"Quite well, I thank you, for some one who _is_ in hiding."

Eriol studies her with a thoughtful expression.

"I _am_ in hiding. Not from the law… Well, not quite." She made light of her situation—a task surprisingly done easily. At last... she has someone to talk in this self-imposed exile of hers... "I am hiding from my _in_-laws."

And as the words left her mouth, Tomoyo felt considerably lighter. The feeling was similar to the release of anxiety she attained in writing her BLOGs. However, this was much better. Here was a real life person, not some corpus of digital encryption.

Tomoyo leans over, tuck her hand under his chin, and close his slightly gaping mouth. Smiling like a mischievous little girl, she said. "Forgive me, Eriol—I exaggerated a bit."

"Not in-laws, then?"

"Not exactly the correct phrase for it. _The_ In-law." She smile somewhat dims as she grimly intones, "… my husband."

Scholarly spectacles reflected some of the morning light from the window. "All evidences suggest—this secrecy, this 'in hiding' business— that you're not pleased with your husband."

"_To be_. My husband to be."

"What a way to deliver a punch line, Miss Daidouji." Eriol lifts his cup in a mocking salute before taking another sip. "I am pleased to see you're amusing yourself at my account. You're relaxing around me, I believe."

"That's true." Tomoyo pensively gaze out the window, subliminally thinking of that bird's flight. "I through with taking things too seriously, that's the god honest truth, Eriol. Oh, don't misunderstand and think that I intend to shrink back from my duty and such. What I meant to say… I will not think of my dire situation as bleak as bleak can be. I will have to crack a joke, sing a tune, dance a set, sketch a dress, walk a mile, and dine once in a while. Hopefully, by returning to my comfortable routine I can manage to smile a little, laugh a little, love a little, and live a little—"

"Yes?" Eriol prompts.

"I think... I've said enough. I'm sorry."

"_Hm_. Do not worry, Miss Daidouji. Like I said— secret for a secret."

And then it hit her. She was afraid to ask.

Despite the assurances she made for him and _whatever_ that had may or may not occurred between them, Tomoyo realized that it was imperative to have _him_ tell her. As the English would say, she kept a stiff upper lip and quirred.

"Eriol? What happened last night?"

* * *

~...~

* * *

**Noon.**

Out on the veranda of a charming little bistro, Tomoyo sits alone in her table for two. But she could careless, is she was alone! Wasn't this what she wanted in the first place?

_This_, she determinedly decided as she discreetly tucked her right leg underneath her, _is shaping up to be the best day of my entire stay in Singapore_.

With great care, she forks the _mango and melon crème pie à la mode_ (mango and melon cream pie with ice cream). A few yards away from her table was the traffic of people strolling on the famous Orchard Road. She savors the piquant sweetness of the fruits and the smoothness of the crème and ice cream before chewing blithely.

_This is heavenly_._ I needed this_, she thought. Tomoyo had spent the good part of her morning sketching. Her designs were currently quite random— Most definitely a manifestation of her confused thoughts. She could just hear Mademoiselle Le Fonde would _pft_ in that very French manner and say to her—"Miss Daidouji, what are you trying to _say_? What is your _visión_?"

This, she decided as she discreetly tucks her right leg underneath her, was one the starting to become the best day of her entire stay in Singapore. So calm and peaceful, not seeing that "person" did wonders for her battered pride. Not seeing him around for the past two days eradicated, albeit partially, him from her mind.

_Out sight, out of mind._

The noon sun was high above her, judging from the shade and shadows cast by a nearby tree. Despite it's already monsoon season in Singapore, the weather held on to the best of a sunny and rainy day. Cool breezes, warm sunshine, and fluffy clouds against a clear blue sky.

The scene relaxed her immensely. She muses that it was a last-minute whim to that made her decide to stay in Singapore. And not proceed with her original plan which was to have her "sabbatical" to New York City. The last time she and her mother had a quarrel — between what was "_expected_" of her and what she "_wanted for herself_" — she hid in NYC. There in the Big Apple, she sorted out her chaotic thoughts and rallied her fragmented courage to fight for what she wanted.

But this time, NYC was out of the question. Knowing her mother, that would be the first place to look for her. Although Manhattan was a huge island, Tomoyo's favorite hubs were all too known, and finding her would be all too easy. She did not want to be found. She did not want her choice to be made hastily. This was the rest of her life they were talking about.

_I cannot simply_ **do** _what is "expected" of me. There's so much to be thought over, so much to be felt before surrendering to the path that my parents had laid out for me. I—_

Tomoyo bit her lower lip and stabbed her pie, causing the unfortunate pastry to bleed out the delectable snow-white crème and its luscious amber fruit juices.

The motion was a clear demonstration of her annoyance at the situation—the gray end of her supposed-to-be happy reverie. That infuriating person just had taken a neighboring table, across the aisle.

Eriol Hiiragizawa greeted her with a languid, two-fingered salute before disappearing behind his menu.

She did not trust herself with that—that—that person around!

Oh yes, she asked. She just had to ask! And yes, he answered with facts of that fateful night she decided to indulge in margarita-drinking. Tomoyo felt her face burning at the memory of how slow, low and sensual his voice had become as he related the …ehem, details.

"…_and I assisted you through the longue and into the elevator."_

_I kept my face smooth and serene—even as I tensely anticipate what, from my own recollection, happen thereafter._

"_I'm sorry to have to tell you," Eriol continued, "that you were none too steady all by yourself. And there we were in the elevator—you were trying to provoke me into a heated debate about Newton's Laws, when I thought to myself I'd rather have a heated snogging session with you."_

Oh my_— I felt a crack in my composed façade. And he was quick to acknowledge his victory by deliberately commenting on it._

"_Ah, you're finally blushing. And here I was, wondering if you think I am making all these up. I take it that you remember?"_

"I like to see you try, Eriol."_ The sassy Tomoyo from her memory had said._

_The moment after that was a blur, with striking highlights…__His demanding body against her pliant own. The feel lapels of his coat as she pulled him to her. Her hands wrestling his shirt from his pants… __And the rest were meshed into something poignantly hot and delicious. _

_Unable to restrain herself, she admitted out loud. "I recall it was a mutual thing." Eriol gave her an undecipherable look as she gravely considered crawling to hide under the table._

_Mercifully, he stopped teasing her after that. _She stood up. "Thank you the meal, Eriol. I would very much like to return to my hotel room."

Eriol was also on his feet, he smoothly offered his arm. "Certainly, miss. I'd be glad to take you there."

…

Tomoyo felt a chill that had nothing to do with a cool breeze that lightly treaded through her hair.

She quickly dabbed the corners of her lips, ready to leave. Tomoyo made up her mind to create as much distance as she can between Mr. Hiiragizawa and herself_. For her peace of mind's sake. A girl can only suffer for her tattered pride so much. And enough was enough! _She summoned the waiter and paid her bill and tipped her attendant.

She cast a fleeting look at her scrumptious, unfinished pie with a note of regret before getting up from her chair. Tomoyo, composed with an air of poise and serenity, started to stand when disaster striked!

The sudden painful involuntary contraction of her left leg muscle, the very one she was sitting on, made her grip the table's edge to steady herself. Tomoyo having leaned too forcefully on the table, caused it to tilt and send everything on its surface crashing down onto the pavement.

"OH!"

Neighboring patrons jumped from their seats to avoid the imminent catastrophe. Thus creating an even bigger spectacle of herself.

The broken debris shattered and scattered, duly creating a perimeter of chaos. Tomoyo did not know what to make of the perimeter of chaos around her feet. _Perhaps the universe was trying to tell me something…?_

"It's alright, ma'am." A server reassured her, dropping to his knees to clean up after the clutter.

Tomoyo unhesitatingly drop beside the man and began picking broken tableware as well. "No, please. Allow _me_."

An elderly waiter helped the raven-haired with the flushed face to her feet. "Please, allow him to take care of that."

"Please— let _me_." Overwrought with mortification, she resisted the hands trying to help her.

"_Young lady_, please…" The elderly waiter, who really was the _Maître d' _firmly steered her limping from her leg cramp into the bistro's interior and main room. "Come inside."

All could have been endured… if he who saw her at her worst was not within the vicinity.

_So much for trying to salvage what is left of my dignity_. Tomoyo thought dryly.

Steady yet gentle hands urge her down to the longue bar stool.

"Are you alright, miss. Do forgive out outdoor tables. They tend to tilt at forceful provocation. Do excuse me." The Maître d' turned and walked to a podium-style in a discreet corner of the Bistro's main room.

As interior of the bistro's air conditioning cooled the beads of perspiration on her forehead, Tomoyo stretched out her left leg, an effective method to getting rid of muscle cramps. She adverted her eyes from the displayed liquor. _The gods must be laughing_. She thought fiercely.

There was a shift in the air beside her. "Haven't you had enough?" He asked, following her gaze over to the bar counter.

"Oh. I _had_ enough alright!" She rose swiftly, throwing him a meaningful, contemptuous glance. Seeing that he thoughtfully brought in her fashionably distressed jacket for her, she pursed her lips and said no more.

Eriol smiled, correctly reading her expression. "You're welcome, _Tomoyo_."

The same chill ran down her spine. The way he said her name—

The elderly man appeared behind her, cutting off whatever else she wanted to say. The Maître d' had retrieved the black leather chequebook and placed it between them.

_The dishes!_ "I will pay for the damages." She reached for her purse on her side. And her hand came up empty.

"Looking for this?" Eriol asked, holding up a familiar demure little, quilted, black leather clutch.

_Her purse!_ Her angrily flashing eyes met his roguish gleaming ones. This man was really testing her self-control.

She had now idea how incredibly stunning she looked to Eriol. _A battle-ready goddess_. She regally held a slender hand to him. "My purse, if you please, Mr. Hiiragizawa." _A commanding princess_. He smiled, liking this and more…

Placidly, he said. "Of course, miss." But instead of handing over her purse, Eriol tucked it into the breast pocket of his dark blue suit and extracted his own wallet.

"I would not allow others to pay for what I had done." Tomoyo infused authority in her tone. "You did _not_ listen intently as you should, Mr. Hiiragizawa. _I_ need to pay the man."

The Maître d' waited on a number of peerages in his time and immediately recognized the impeccable carriage and hauteur of the young lady. _An heiress, at the very least_. Then, he watched the protective forbearance of the dark suited man. _Her bodyguard_. He supposed that the young lady was a spendthrift, and it was the chap's duty to mind her expenses.

"Miss, pl—"

Tomoyo unceremoniously pulled Eriol by the collar and impatiently took what was rightfully hers from him.

To the Maître d', she asks agreeably. "May I please see the tab?"

The cheque was opened before her. She discreetly began thumbing through the paper bills in her clutch.

Eriol was impressed by this splendid sassy young woman in a delicate-looking white, black-accented chiffon day-dress. _So, all that fire was not merely alcohol-induced_.

The Maître d' decided she was a spoiled heiress.

Tomoyo wanted the earth to open up underneath her Jimmy Choo sling-back sandals. Her cash was not enough! She slid a quick glance at Eriol. _No, I won't have him ask him to rescue me._

She shook her head, recalling that song a little girl was singing in the Carrion-Whitmore lobby... _I don't want to be like Cinderella… I'd rather rescue myself._

"Is there problem, Miss Daijouji?"

The grin on his face told her he knew she was in trouble.

"Pray," she imitated his English accent with an embellished haughty flair. "Don't concern yourself with me." She tucked her glossy platinum credit card between the chequebook and handed back to the Maître d'.

"Then you're not allowing me to do my job."

Tomoyo smiles neutrally at the Maître d' as she takes back her credit card and slip into her purse.

"Secret for secret?" She said to Eriol.

"All right."

"I don't particularly care if I allow you to do your job or not. I think you should just leave me be."

The Maître d' subtly excuses himself from the scene, bowing slightly to Eriol, then to Tomoyo.

She saw that. Her eyes darken with hurt at the look of disapproval in the elderly server's face. She quickly strode past the Maître d''s stand, past the lunch room, and found herself by a large, elegant white Spanish marble fountain surrounded by a exotic, vividly colorful fauna on the opposite, innermost annex of the bistro. Apparently, this side bordered with the Carrion-Whitmore.

The fountain was massive, unquestionably the _piece de resistance_ of the bistro's adornments. It was around six meters in diameter, she estimated. In the center of it, was an exquisitely carved Spanish vase, bearing a bountiful array of fruit and blossoms, from which water fell in a graceful arcs and languid curtains.

Walking around the circumference of the fountain, she folded her arms and stared unseeingly at the floating lily pads. She attempted to reflect on her current situation. _Why is the grass always greener on the other side?_ She wondered philosophically. _Why is it that the _alternative_ of a dire situation more pleasing than what is actually there? Why—_

"I believe you've just divulged two secrets, Miss Tomoyo." Eriol said, as he approached from behind and propped a foot on the edge of the milky white stone of the fountain.

Tomoyo frowned. Perhaps it was the _artiste_ in her that contrived imaginative meaning in his rather domineering stance on the fountain.

No, stop. I must not think of him. I have to deal with my situation with Mother first. "Shh, Eriol. I am trying to focus."

"According to our accord—I will have two secrets to share with you as well. First, I admire your candidness. However, I regret to say that you are not the boss of me. Which leads us to my second secret—my future plans do _not_ include leaving you alone."

Tomoyo turned ever so slowly to him. That's why he did not anticipate that her hands out swiftly wall-up against his chest and shove him backwards into the fountain.

As his head came out the water, she said in all vehemence of a fine, good woman at her patience limits. "I appreciate that you're looking out for me. But I don't need you to distract me right now. I need to focus on my position with my mother and her future plans for me."

Eriol propped himself on his elbows, and deviously ran a large hand over his wet hair.

Tomoyo forced herself not look away at the sight of blatantly male peacock-ing.

His white, round collar shirt looked grey now. His dark blue long sleeved, ribbed shawl collar, knit cardigan was near black now. Water lapped over his torso and his dark Manchester cloth-clad legs. Eriol was thoroughly drenched but despite that… he threw back his head and laughed.

Guilt at losing her cool doused the fire of her ire. "From that laugh, I take it that you're amused and not annoyed. I pray that you did not sustain any serious injury during your fall." _ I must take responsibility and bear this..__._ Tomoyo reached out and helped him up.

Water slid from his clothes and down to form a puddle the cobblestone ground. Tomoyo could not help but notice and stare at hard planes and angles of his body. She quickly looked up at him, trying to camouflage the intensity of her attentiveness. "I apologize for the lack of restraint on my temper. Eriol, I mean what I said that I won't allow others to pay for what I had done… Now, if you would just take off your wet clothe—"

An amused masculine eyebrow rose. "Why, Tomoyo. I thought you'd never ask."

Tomoyo shoved him back into the fountain.

Eriol landed in the water with a big splash. "After you cooled off, Hiiragizawa, send your dry-cleaning bill to me via the front desk. Good day."

But the damage, crack, and break in the armor she built against him has been done. Now, it's only a matter of time.

* * *

~...~

* * *

**Night.**

Eriol jab a hand into his pants pocket as he languidly steps out of the main door of the Carrion-Whitmore behind a very angry, young lady with an attractively pert face. "Leave me alone!"

"Easy, easy. It's just me, Honey."

Tomoyo, who just then was alighting from the taxicab, caught the top of her head on the vehicles door frame upon vividly hearing the _last_ word.

She bit her lower lip, sealing the curse from escaping her mouth. She paid and tipped the cab driver before grabbing a paper bag filled with strips of beautiful fabric swatches.

Not wanting an encounter with the duo. She decides to wait out until they left. And so, discreetly and sedately, Tomoyo casually steps partially behind a huge trimmed potted plant. She takes out her cell phone, secure her hands-free handset to her earlobe and pretends to read messages.

His soothing tone calmed the girl almost immediately, she saw. Tomoyo was rather aware of the effects.

A few heartbeats later, a harried hotel staff dressed (what Tomoyo came to recognize as the hotel's Manager's uniform) emerged from the double doors.

The young woman's exquisite peach chiffon dress swirled like champagne around her knees as she stomped her heeled-shoes in a very childlike manner as the manager approached. "The hell! You—"

"Disaster in the making! A complete disaster if I ever did see one coming! Deal with this Miss Leigh. You have an hour and thirty minutes to bring this around. You know what is at stake." And pleased that his message of doom has been duly foretold, the manager turned and headed for the doors.

The lady called _Leigh_ stuck a tongue out at the manager's back.

"Now, now, Honey." Eriol drawls in a very familiar manner. "You have a room full of future potential clients waiting for you back in wouldn't want your clients to find you in sixes and sevens."

"_What_? Sixes and sevens? Speak English, not_ English_ English."

"Sixes and sevens means 'in a mess, topsy turvy or haywire."

"_OH_. As they say in New York would say… I am _fu_—"

"Ah, ah, ah… Mind your temper, and your mouth will follow, Honey. You're working." Eriol cups her face and began massaging the angry wrinkles away. "You should spew charm and confidence, not contemptible curses."

"You are the one to talk, eh love? When you narrow your dark blues at them— they utterly drop dead or drop panties."

Eriol sighs wearily, releasing her. "If you are willing to wait here, I'll get you a drink."

Leigh's pert face brightens at the prospect.

Half turning, he asks over his shoulder. "The usual, then, Honey?" Before Leigh could make a response, Eriol continued. "A bucket of water with wedge of soap for your bleeding mouth."

"_Ugh_. I could just throttle you! If I only I did not need your ungrateful ass."

Dauntingly, Eriol walk back and bore down from his six-foot height. Tomoyo notices that Leigh only came up to his chest, despite the young lady's heels. "Honey, you really need that bubbly drink, don't you?"

"… ungrateful rear." Leigh amends ungraciously.

At that, Tomoyo left out an unguarded laugh… which she swiftly added great emphasis to the head set, "— oh my!_ Simone_, you exaggerate! Did Maurice… _really_?"

Tomoyo thanked her lucky stars when Eriol and Leigh did not seem to notice her.

"_Smashing_." Eriol sounds quite pleased, despite the cheeky reply. "Tell me… did exercising suitable behavior hurt?"

"_Salutations to the sun_ hurt more." Tomoyo heard Leigh say.

Eriol brought his arm over Leigh's shoulder in an affectionate buddy-buddy manner. "That is correct, Hon. How are you doing now? Still livid beyond control?"

Leigh thought for a moment. "Livid, but in control."

"Good girl. Work can be very stressful, especially for a perfectionist such as yourself who love the work you do."

With a hand on her hip, she gave him a leveled look. "And what about those who work with equal perfectionist tendencies who do _not_ love the work they do? What do you call persons like _yourself_?"

"A fool."

"Perhaps. But a noble one, that is for certain."

"Ah, the worst sort, Honey."

"For whatever my humble opinion is worth, I think _they_ are bigger fools— for they definitely pegged you wrong. Good, albeit too square for my taste, and noble, in what essentially matters."

Eriol laughed a short laugh. "What a verdict to arrive at, and with so little evidence."

Leigh laughed a rich laugh. "I made my disclaimers, mind you."

It was in that instance Tomoyo's cell phone shrilled loudly in her hand. Tomoyo glanced down and saw an incoming call from an unknown number. Unenthusiastic about answering unknown callers, she sent the call to voice mail.

"Eavesdropping?" Eriol calls to the shadows.

_Merde, I should have taken the call. _A mortified Tomoyo stepped into the light. "Evading."

"Something you do especially well."

"What can say? I'm not very good with confrontations. Dread them, actually."

"Yes." Eriol smiles sagely. "I observed. However… when push comes to shove… You step up."

Tomoyo wanted to believe him— _No_, the matter with her mother, the Reeds and the fiancée-business remain unresolved. _Well, at least some one is optimistic_. She thought.

Leigh pointedly coughs.

"Oh. Where are my manners?" Eriol began the introductions. "Miss Tomoyo Daidouji, this is Leigh Leeds. Honey is the Carrion-Whitmore's events specialist. She coordinates events and such for the C.W. Miss Daidouji is, I daresay," His dark eyes met and held Tomoyo's as he finished, "a friend."

Leigh gave a look, to which Eriol replied, "Honey, is something wrong with your eyes? You are looking at me in an odd manner."

"'_Miss_'?"

Clearly, Leigh noticed something amiss with that. Tomoyo thought.

For some reason, Eriol chose not to answer that… He said instead, "Honey, it may interest you to know that Miss Daidouji has a beautiful voice. I have the privilege of playing piano accompaniment with her in the lounge some nights ago."

"So, you're the guest who commandeers the stage that particular evening! Congratulations! I heard that you were simply wonderful~"

Eriol said to Leigh. "May I suggest that she replaces Odessa's in tonight's party?"

"Oh! I like that idea!" Leigh explains enthusiastically, "You see, Tomoyo~ Odessa, the hired band's lead singer, will not go on tonight. Apparently, the best man is an ex. Nasty business. Now, I find myself trying to recruit a replacement. I am dying! My career is hanging on the balance. Oh, please, please, please consent! I'll owe you one!"

Leigh Leeds' honey-hued eyes met Tomoyo's, and the latter knew she could not say no. Leigh reminds her too much of her dear cousin Sakura.

* * *

"I cannot thank you enough, Tomoyo darling!" A clump of gray leap over the close dressing room doors. "I hope you don't mind wearing that— the Bridezilla insists that we should match the wedding entourage. Gray, gray, gray with a splash of peach and burnt orange."

Tomoyo examines the garment with an expert eye. She feels the fabric in her hand. It is of medium weight, a rather smooth and silky fabric with a satiny, lustrous finish. The steel gray fabric is most likely a _Peau De Soie_.

Now that the dress was on her, Tomoyo assesses the fit… _Oh no_… The outfit is clearly four dress sizes bigger than her.

It had a jewel neckline, a pleated bodice with small cap sleeves and a bow at side waist on the wide, full shirred skirt._ Eep~ Definitely… uh, over-designed_.

_There must be some other way_. And an idea struck Tomoyo. "Miss Leeds…"

"Oh Tomoyo, darling! Please there's no need to be so formal, call me 'Honey'."

"Honey? May I make alterations to this dress?"

She thought for a moment. "I don't see why not. Its Odessa's as commission by the C.W. for tonight's wedding. We can go to the sewing room of the C.W. Our seamstress can alter it for you."

Tomoyo step out of the dressing room and followed Leig~_Honey_ out the room. They walk to a service hallway, down another hallways, past the entrance to the laundry room, and finally to the sewing room.

"Mah-rianne~!" Honey jovially calls out the elderly lady working behind the sewing machine.

"Miss Honey, what a lovely surprise! I thought you had a wedding reception to oversee. What brings you here? Oh, and who's this?"

Honey gently pulls Tomoyo beside her. "Tomoyo darling. This is Marianne Jamison, the Carrion-Whitmore's head seamstress. Marianne, this is Tomoyo Daidouji. She will be subbing Odessa in the Russell-Blackwood affair."

Marianne saw the familiar gray dress in Tomoyo's arms. "Alterations, I gather."

Tomoyo smiles as she pulls out a sheet of paper from a portfolio and handed it to Marianne.

The seamstress liked the gleam in Tomoyo's eye. "What's on your mind, my darling?"

"_Major_ alterations."

* * *

"Where is Tomoyo?"

"She'll be along." There was a glimmer of mischief in Leigh Leeds's honey-hued eyes. "I asked her to change."

_Change_? Eriol mentally shook his head at the thought. "She needn't change. Tomoyo is fine just the way she is."

Honey's smile was as sweet as her name. "Oh, there's no disputing that. Her gorgeous boots, designer jeans, cute tank and structured jacket are definitely stylish but it's not an appropriate ensemble for a wedding. This is a formal event after all. _And_, she will be working."

Eriol's brows rose. "Explain."

"I offered her a job. Apparently, she's in a glitch. Funds are low, apparently. I understand that she is in hiding."

"You figured out that too, I see."

"Actually, she told _me_."

Eriol could not believe his ears. "Straightforwardly?"

"With graphic detail." Honey studied Eriol and her smile diminished somewhat.

"We are not exactly what you would call 'friends', I think."

Honey's brow furrowed. Tentatively, she asked. "What are you two _exactly_?"

"It's complicated."

Honey let out an unladylike snort. "You sound like a social networking site status. Come on now… this is the girl who saved you from a swarm of hostile bodyguards. You owe _me_."

Eriol's mouth quirks slightly. "Will that be the very same girl who put me in the awkward position in the first place?"

Flushed-faced, Honey's tone sharpen defensively. "It is not my fault if 'Leeds' sounds similar to 'Reed'… with an s. It's not my fault that you would mistakenly hear one for the other. One cannot choose one's parents."

Almost year ago, he met Honey from a most awkward position. He was face down on the Carrion-Whitmore's marble floor with a burly man straddling him from behind. Most unflattering. Her bodyguards had set up an entrapment operation. It was his mistake of hearing 'Reed' instead of 'Leeds', and went over take the phone call that was meant for Honey.

Eriol's mouth was flat line. "Yes."

Honey did not know how to carry on after that. 'Family' was a treacherous topic to converse with him. So, she decides to change the topic. "Tomoyo sure is taking her time, huh? Probably to build anticipation."

Eriol kept to his own thoughts for a moment longer, before answering Honey. "Glad to see you've untangled yourself from the state you were in."

"I am equally glad that you suggested Tomoyo as Odessa's replacement. I knew I could always count on you to save my a—"

Eriol narrows his dark blues eyes.

Tomoyo wonders if Honey drop dead or drop… _er_. Never mind.

"Oh Tomoyo, there you are!" Honey could not resist emphasizing. "Been there _long_?"

Before any of the ladies could put a word in, Eriol finished running his appreciating eye up and down Tomoyo. The gown on Tomoyo tonight was an attractive shade of gray. He thought the color complemented her creamy, pale skin and artfully pinned-up dark hair.

Odessa's gown has been _re_designed by Tomoyo, Honey observes. It had been shortened to a Cocktail length, just above the knee. The neckline was now a Bateau style and back boasted a deep V. There was a neat wide waistband and pleated skirt with pockets at side seams.

He said. "I say, Honey, she's looking very swish."

Tomoyo gave a little bow, and a little twirl.

For some reason, Honey's mind keep on gravitating towards the simple yet sophisticated elegance of Audrey Hepburn's iconic little black dress… But Tomoyo created this night's gown with a distinctive modern twist. Definitely, it because of the pockets.

"What? Swish? Oh… Eriol, speak English!"

"Ta." Tomoyo grinned, playing along.

"Good Lord! You speak _that_ English too?"

Tomoyo said to Eriol in a flawless British accent. "Clock this fit bird." Tomoyo indistinctly gestured to Honey. "Crumbs, bird's a Yank, innit?" **(**trans.** "Notice this attractive babe… Whoa, babe's an American, isn't she?")**

"Well, done. Outstanding auditory aptitude."

"_Yank_? Now, that's the only word I can muddle though." Honey craned her neck around. "What's the connection with American bird and this healthy bird in a clock? Are we going fed it with crumbs?"

Eriol and Tomoyo laughed like a pair of conspiring, old friends.

Honey rolls her eyes. She pray that the pair is _truly, deeply_ bonding at her expense. That wouldbe worth it.

From the elevated platform where the stage has been set for the band, a stage hand with a radio, waves. "Miss Leeds, the first wave of the guests just arrived and is at the entrance as we speak."

"You heard him. Places now. Show time."

* * *

End of **Chapter Five**

* * *

Author's Notes: Hello! Happy to have you here again! Bone-crushing hugs!

**_1)_** Woot~! Almost a 7,000 words for this chapter! New lenght record for 'Heiress...'!

Is that all right? Should I separate Ch.5 into Ch.5, 6, and 7? You see, 'Night', has continuation. But I had to cut it short because of the current chapter's length. What do you think? **Separate Ch.5:_ Aye! o_r_ Nay! _**Your thoughts.**_  
_**

**_2)_** Do you have any favorite lines? Favorite scene? Favorite 'pun'? Are there any comments, questions, clarifications, suggestions, you'd like to share / ask me? How about: what needs improvement or areas that looking into (i.e. spelling, missing word, and sudden shift of ideas, continuity, and the like).

Please be specific, my friends! I'll get back to them ASAP.

Hear from you soon! Hugs… again! Ü —**bp (June 23,2011)**

* * *

...


End file.
